


The Welshire Quest

by texasislandr



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Reveal, Protective Gwaine, action adventure, fully illustrated, knights of camelot, magical beasts, protective Lancelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texasislandr/pseuds/texasislandr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Arthur and Merlin along with the knights, depart Camelot on a mission to rid the northern villages of some magical beasts. The journey however takes a violent turn when Merlin is incapacitated with life threatening injuries. To far from the citadel to turn back, the group must press forward to both save Merlin and stop the destruction of the outlying villages. Their journey is fraught with peril, alliances are made, and secrets are revealed. All together, destiny takes shape. </p><p>This story comes with 13 illustrations :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Lurks Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well, I'm finally posting squeeee! This story is going to be fully illustrated with 13 to 15 fanarts to go along with what I believe will be 17 chapters and around 30,000 words. I wanted to have an illustration for every chapter, but I think I'll miss 2 to 4 chapters. 12 pictures have already been completed and I'm working on the 13th. 
> 
> The story is based at the end of season 3 since that's when I started this. I left it on my computer half finished for two years before returning to it and deciding to try and complete it :) I want to say thank you to the wonderful, the amazing EchoRose480 who is the awesome beta for this story. Without her I might not have gotten through some pretty horrible writers blocks. You rock! *hugs* P. S. She also has some great stories so please go check them out. 
> 
> Anyway, pleeeeease let me know, what you think. Reviews are like candy and they'll inspire me to complete the last few chapters *grins*
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, if I did Arthur would still be alive, and the golden age of Albion would be upon us. Also, everything would be happy with rainbows, and flowers, and sunshine, and bunnies. No tragedy that leaves you feeling that your soul has just been sucked out and stomped on like BBC did *glares*

Chapter 1 - What Lurks Beneath

Merlin curses Arthur under his breath, because his boots are now ruined, completely and utterly unsalvageable. There is no way he'd be able to bring them back from such grievous treatment, and he can't help the look of irritation that crosses his features as he continues his waist deep trudge through the swamp waters. With each step he fails to keep a grimace from manifesting, because there is something very unpleasant and disturbing about mud and god knows what else squelching between your toes as you walk.

He's been partially submerged for the better part of two hours, and if he didn't know any better, he'd believe there was no end to this horrible place. With a huff of frustration he tugs on Breckon's reigns, signaling the horse to continue following his lead. The horse moves swifter than Merlin anticipates and the young man finds himself stumbling forwards, arms flailing for an ungraceful minute or two, before he manages to awkwardly catch his balance.

"Really _Mer_ lin, is it _that_ hard to stay on your feet?" Arthur's mocking voice rings out from behind him. The younger man can't help the provoked tension that slides up his spine, or the irked roll of his eyes as he continues forward. 

" _Why_ is it again, that, out of eight men, I'm the _only_ one having to wade through this muck and lead my horse?" Merlin huffs in exasperation, pushing another floating and questionable mound out of his path. 

"That is because the seven of us are knights and _you_ are the _ser_ vant. Our supplies are crucial to our mission, and keeping them secure and dry is of the utmost importance. You're not _suggesting_ to me that I volunteer _my_ horse to carry them, and then that I, _the prince_ , go wallowing through this filth?" 

"I wasn't _suggesting_ anything; I just don't see why I can't carry all the supplies _and_ ride at the same time." 

"In case you've forgotten, it is not your place to question, but to do. Besides, you're clearing the way and making sure the swamp bed is stable and safe for the horses to continue forward. It's an important job, and _you_ should feel honored to have it." 

Sir Lorvel lets out an amused snort and Merlin can feel his cheeks heat with both embarrassment and hardly suppressed anger. 

"Really Princess, is this _truly_ necessary." Gwaine spouts with a frown of obvious disapproval. 

Merlin looks back at the older man with a sincere look of gratitude, and Gwaine winks at him. "I mean really, Merlin is more than welcome to double up with me." He suggests, grinning as he twists sideways in the saddle, and pats the space behind him emphatically. 

Before Arthur can even respond, Sir Lorvel is scoffing "A servant riding with a knight is absolutely preposterous and absurd." 

Merlin sends a quick, scathing look at the man who remains completely oblivious to the amount of contempt being passed his way. 

Arthur who is watching shakes his head in amusement, and gives Merlin a mischievous look, "You heard him Merlin, keep moving." 

Merlin sputters. "You can't be serious. Why can't I just…?" Arthur interrupts him with a look, eyelids pointedly shuttered as if to say, _“Shut up, Merlin”_ or _“Now, Merlin."_  

The warlock sighs exasperatedly, and Gwaine gives him an apologetic shrug as he silently mouths, "Sorry, mate" before sending his own disapproving glare at their two uppity companions. 

Merlin nods and turns to glower in silence. Sir Lorvel had been in Camelot barely a month and all the while he and Arthur had been locked in some unspoken rivalry. What irked the warlock more than anything was that the two seemed to be competing on who could be more of a prat. In his opinion, Arthur was winning, despite the fact the whole prospect of making him trudge through the murky waters was Lorvel's idea in the first place. If truth be told, Merlin's reasoning for that was really because he held Arthur to a higher standard than the other man. 

Merlin is jerked from his inner brooding when Breckon gives a nervous snort. He looks up at the moss covered canopy, his eyes darting around the dimly lit area with unease. He hadn't liked the looks of this place since the moment they rode up to it. It is far too dark, for the time of day. The trees are bent into sickly shapes, gnarly roots twisting together before disappearing into the muddy waters. Not a breeze blows, and the air that hangs heavily is old, filled with the scents of slimy moss and stagnant water. Vines and all kinds of plant life dangle from the trees like webs, and at the moment he is trying to ignore the mosquitoes that are attempting to drain his body dry. _'Bloody vampires'_ he hisses inwardly, swiping one of the aforementioned insects off the side of his neck. 

"Are you _sure_ this is safe?" Merlin grumbles. "Do you even _know_ where we're going, because from where I stand it looks like we're traveling through this God forsaken place for no other reason than to torment me. _Even_ the horses' seem to be-I don't know…uncomfortable." 

"The horses are fine, stop being so paranoid and whiney. You know as well as I, that the creature we're looking for was sighted just past this swamp. If I really wanted to _torment_ you, I'd hardly have to go through something this elaborate. In fact, I'd have you muck out the stables for a week, or just leave you in the stocks for a day," Arthur grins smugly. 

"I don't care what you say, this place gives me the creeps," Merlin states flatly, a wary shiver moving down his spine as he continues to slowly drag his legs forward. Just when he is beginning to feel somewhat relaxed, the violating sensations of something sliming along his upper thigh causes him to let out a startled yelp. He stumbles back and begins to twist around, his horrified blue eyes darting around the obscured water for the offending creature, or whatever it was. 

"Merlin, you okay, mate?" Gwaine asks with obvious concern. 

Merlin's frantic gaze flits upward to see the men staring at him with varying expressions ranging from curiosity to mild annoyance. He shakes his head "No, no I'm not," he answers, clearly miffed. "I've had it, I want back on my horse!" 

Arthur's serious expression turns into an exasperated one. "You're being such a girl Merlin, honestly." 

"I'm being a girl?" Merlin exclaims, face turning red as he starts to sputter and gesticulate at the water surrounding him, "You're not the one getting groped by all sorts of…god knows what!" 

Merlin is clearly not prepared for the roar of laughter that comes from the troupe before him. Only Gwaine and Lancelot have the decency to look apologetic when they try to cover their amused grins behind their gloved hands. "Well, by all means, laugh it up! I'm so glad you all find my distress so entertaining!" He growls, sending a scalding glare at his supposed friends before turning his back on the lot of them. He wades forward determinedly, dingy water splashing up around his waist. 

If Merlin hadn't been brooding, he might have seen the piercing gold eyes that peeked out from the shallow depths. Both orbs focused predatorily on him from underneath their scaly lids. So lost in his internal raging, Merlin hardly notices Breckon tensing up behind him, but when she whinnies and lets out an agitated snort, he can't help but glance backward. By then, the animal has lowered her ears flat, and both brown eyes are crazed as they stare intently out into the marsh.

Merlin gives a commanding tug on the reigns, but the horse refuses to be persuaded and instead takes a hesitant step backward. It is then that a deep sense of foreboding sweeps over the warlock, and Merlin can't help but swallow thickly while he scans the foreboding scenery around him. Something was wrong, he just _knew_ it.

"Why have you stopped?" Arthur Inquires loudly of him.

"Something's not right," Merlin answers vaguely, too occupied with the strange ominous prickle at the back of his mind, and the heavy weight of dread in his stomach to realize how unenlightening his response had been.

"Do you see something?" Lancelot asks seriously, his cautious interest peeking through.

"No, but Breckon…" Merlin stops abruptly, seeing movement in his peripheral vision. When his eyes scan the spot, a blink of an eye later, only a soft ripple remains to be seen.

Instantly the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end, "Arthur, I think there's something in the water," he breathes shakily, backing away slowly.

"Where?" Arthur asks, his hand already moving to the hilt of his sword.

"I saw something to the left," Lancelot announces, pointing off to the area behind the warlock.

"Merlin, get on your horse," Arthur orders.

"Gladly!" Merlin exclaims, before moving toward the side of his mare. Breckon jerks back suddenly, violently pulling the reigns from the warlock's grasp as she rears back with a shriek. All at once, the other Horses begin to panic and the water begins to splash up from their erratic movements. The previously quiet surroundings are now echoing with the uproar of several terrified animals.

"Get out of the water _now_ Merlin!" Arthur shouts fiercely, trying to calm his own steed.

"I'm _trying_!" Merlin sputters as he gropes for his lost reigns, the frightened horses forcing him to inhale more of the water that they continue to disrupt. He can barely decipher who the shouts are from, but there is a simultaneous outpouring of alarmed cries. Merlin can feel the sound of his name, and the phrase 'behind you', shouted in varying degrees of horror, resonating in his ears clearly. It is in that moment that he knows something terrible is about to happen, and the magic that has been pulsing beneath his skin erupts along with the sense of urgency that floods through his veins. Swiveling in the water he tries to face whatever the impending danger is head on, but everything happens in such rapid succession that there is no chance for him to process what unfolds next. Merlin lets out a shout of surprise when the only things he can see in the blur of movement are teeth, rows and rows of razor sharp teeth that are rapidly descending upon him. _'Oh, god!'_

 

Then there is only pain as the creatures jaws clamp down on his torso, and immediately uses the force of its enormous frame to pull him underneath the murky surface. Merlin screams out what little air he has as the beasts grip on him tightens and agony tears through him. When he gasps in an attempt to retrieve it, he only receives a mouth full of water for his effort.

He can feel each tooth ripping into the soft flesh that covers his upper body, all of them working together to tear him apart. He claws at the creatures scales with his hands, even though the skin is tough like armor. He knows it's futile, but he continues desperately all the same, his instinctive need to survive prompting him to fight despite his mind being clouded with frantic terror.

Then, he is swept up in a world of vertigo and pain as the beast shakes him roughly, and begins to roll. From then on all he can comprehend is agony, darkness, and swirling water. Merlin screams although his lungs are empty, and instinctively he drags in another breath of filth. His lungs protest vengefully to the foreign substance that invades them a second time, and it only takes mere moments for his fingers' grip on the dark hide to go lax. His body starts convulsing as it struggles to maintain its fragile grasp on life. Merlin's ears are ringing so loudly now that he can hear nothing else. The magic inside him screams to be released, but Merlin has not the strength left to heed it, nor is there enough life remaining to answer its call.


	2. Hidden within Murky Waters

AN: Well, here's chapter 2 :D Hope you guys enjoy it. Once again, thank you to the wonderful, the amazing EchoRose480 who is the awesome beta for this story. Without her I might not have gotten through some pretty horrible writers blocks. You rock! *hugs*

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, if I did Arthur would still be alive, and the golden age of Albion would be upon us. Also, everything would be happy with rainbows, and flowers, and sunshine, and bunnies. No tragedy that leaves you feeling that your soul has just been sucked out and stomped on like BBC did *glares*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2 - Hidden within Murky Waters

Arthur watches in horror as the large beast surfaces behind Merlin, its long, scaly snout rising up from the water. With incredible speed it bares down on his servant, its jaws wide open with malicious intent. "Merlin!" he screams, his raw and panicked voice colliding with those of the other knights. It happens so fast that he has no time to react. In just a flicker of his eyes, Merlin is gone, pulled beneath the murky depths with only the echo of his pained cry remaining to haunt them.

Gwaine is the first to move. He's off his horse, sword drawn before the beast's tail has finished vanishing beneath the water. Arthur and Lancelot, despite their shock, are right behind him, each man shouting out as they splash their way towards where their friend was pulled under. 

Gwaine reaches the area first, his free hand desperately running through the murky water in an attempt to find any sign of his friend, "Merlin! Damn it, come on!" He pleads.

Adrenaline rushes through Arthur's veins, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage as he splashes after Gwaine. _'No no no no!'_ is his inner mantra. 

"Any sign?!" he calls frantically. Gwaine doesn't even spare him a glance as he continues to wildly sweep his eyes across the water, while his hands mimic the gesture through it. The prince ignores the blatant dismissal, and begins his own hunt. His eyes raking over the surface of the water for any sign of a disturbance; his effort is rewarded when off to the right of them, he sees a small cluster of bubbles breaking the surface. 

"There!" he bellows with a lunge, several men following suit. He is almost to the spot when something hard and abrasive slams into his legs. Throwing caution to the wind Arthur dives forward, his armored body sinking beneath the surface, fingers trying to grab hold of the scales that are elusively brushing across their tips. Arthur clutches tightly, fighting to get a grip on the thrashing body, but he is no match for the massive beast and, with a violent jerk, he is thrown off. 

In moments he feels frantic hands grab hold of him and pull him up, and with a shuddering gasp he breaks the surface.

"Sire! Are you alright?" Sir Leon asks, as he helps heave him into a standing position.

Arthur, tugs his arm free, and pulls away from all the prying hands. "Where is it?" He hisses. "Where did it go?!"

Before anyone can answer, Arthur feels the back of his hauberk jerk violently backward, and he chokes as it tightens around his throat. "This is your fault!" Gwaine accuses fiercely, "You killed him, you pompous bastard!" With his face distorted into a grieving rage, the rogue knight slams his fist into the Prince's face.

In an instant Lancelot has his restraining arms wrapped around the older man's torso and is struggling to hold him back, away from the dazed prince. Gwaine struggles and kicks out with a splash and an enraged growl, but Lancelot just tightens his hold, "Stop this, Gwaine! Stop, you're making things worse!"

"How can you be on his side?!" the knight spat, "He did this! It's his fault!" 

Crushing condemnation sweeps over Arthur as the severity of what just happened begins to overwhelm him. He concedes that he is every bit to blame as Gwaine has charged. He did this, he just marched his friend into the open arms of a watery death. 

Arthur distressingly inhales, he wants to produce an excuse, form some type of defense as if to qualify what has just transpired, but he can't. This was not the time to hash out petty arguments. Not when his heart is beating with the frantic rhythm of ‘where’s Merlin, where’s Merlin, find Merlin’

Abruptly, the prince is made aware of a commotion erupting behind him. He doesn't see it, as much as hears it, and he watches as Leon's eyes widen, an exclamation forming on the man's lips.

"Look out!" the knight shouts, his hand reaching out towards his prince.

The horses are shrieking again in terror, and the roar of treading water becomes deafening. Arthur feels the heavy mass of his charger's rump smack into him, and then he's stumbling forward.

Leon grasps a flailing arm, and pulls the young royal to a safer distance away. Both men watching as the spooked horse continues to rear up and slam its hooves back down into the water in a tumultuous manner, its dark eyes hazed over with panic. 

There is a violent shudder, followed by another, and Merlin feels himself jerked lower into the water. The spontaneous jolts continue and he can feel the small grasp he's been holding on consciousness slipping away in a haze of agony. Then it is almost as if he's fading. His body is slowly slipping away from him, leaving him blissfully detached.

He doesn't feel the vice-like grip on his torso loosen, nor is he aware when it lets go completely. Merlin is simply numb, drifting unawares amidst murky waters that are steadily turning copper as his life steadily flows out of him. He can't feel the strong hands desperately grabbing him, and doesn't see the light as his body is lifted and breaks the surface. His eyes have already slipped closed while he succumbs to a sea of darkness.

For the first time in countless years, Gwaine feels an unfamiliar stinging across the backs of his eyes. He swallows thickly and closes his lids in an attempt to keep the unwanted tears at bay. This couldn't be happening, not when he was just starting to feel like he belongs somewhere. Such tragedy should never befall a man like Merlin.

Lancelot is still gripping his arms, the other knight saying things that are completely lost to him. With a ragged breath he looks over to where Arthur and Leon are recovering from the horses' uproar, and he can't help but narrow his eyes. Percival is moving towards him, no doubt to help calm him, and the thought makes his anger churn even more. He quickly diverts his gaze to the muddy waters and what he sees there nearly causes him to choke, amidst all the muck and moss there's a flicker of red. Adrenaline immediately erupts through him with renewed vigor, and he finds himself lunging forward, completely catching Lancelot off guard.

Percival grabs his arm before he gets very far, the large knight fearing he's trying for another shot at the Prince. The other man is strong as an ox and Gwaine feels the hope that had come roaring to life quickly start to die away. "Let me go! Let go of me, you bastards!" He screams, spittle flying from his chapped lips. "I see him!"

It must have been the unmistakable desperateness of his tone that made them release their hold, because suddenly all resistance is gone and he's stumbling forward like a madman. In moments he's diving beneath the surface, his fingers frantically groping the cloudy water around him. When his fingers brush across a familiar jacket, he lets out a shout of excitement, bubbles of air quickly escaping to the surface above.

Gwaine tugs Merlin closer, wrapping is arms around him as he pulls him up to the surface. He sucks in a mouthful of air and shouts. "I've got him! I've got him!" he repeats.

The older man looks down at the broken form tucked in his arms, and he feels all the former excitement slipping away. His heart seizes painfully in his chest and he can't help the sudden bout of dread that sweeps over him. The boy is ashen, clothes torn and barely hanging on, warm blood spilling out into the surrounding waters. He looks dead.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Pleeeeease let me know, what you think. Reviews are like candy and they'll inspire me to write *grins*

PS. I totally don't know how to make anything look wet so I just drew tons of little water drops everywhere lol! I also have no clue how to make torn fabric or wounds so this was my best shot. Hope ya'll like it anyway :D


	3. Return to Solid Ground

AN: Once again, thank you to the wonderful, the amazing EchoRose480 who is the awesome beta for this story. Without her I might not have gotten through some pretty horrible writers blocks. You rock! *hugs*

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, if I did Arthur would still be alive, and the golden age of Albion would be upon us. Also, everything would be happy with rainbows, and flowers, and sunshine, and bunnies. No tragedy that leaves you feeling that your soul has just been sucked out and stomped on like BBC did *glares*

 

Chapter 3 - Return to Solid Ground

It takes Gwaine a shocked moment to pull his eyes away from Merlin's pallid face and look up at the men that are staggering through the water towards him.

He can see the looks of barely concealed hope on their individual faces, but when his eyes meet theirs he knows it's his devastated expression that sends looks of equal horror through the group.

"Is he alive?" Lancelot ventures first. Gwaine shakes his head, "I don't know," he confesses, his fingers fumbling over his friend's jaw, struggling to find any signs of life, "I don't…."

Lancelot reaches him and helps lift Merlin higher out of the water. "Dear God," he curses at the sight of his friend’s mangled body. The older knight leans his face in, and gently presses his ear to Merlin's chest straining to hear a rhythmic beating. There's a tense pause of anticipation before he exclaims in relief, "He's alive!"

Arthur is upon them in moments, as are the others, and the area is quickly filled with anxious and demanding inquiries. When Arthur reaches out to touch his manservant, Gwaine quickly knocks the hand back with a growl, "Don't touch him!" he hisses dangerously, "Don't you dare touch him."

"You can't…"

"Both of you shut up!" Lancelot scolds. "There isn't time for your petty squabbles. Merlin's heart is beating, but just barely. If he is to remain with us in the land of the living, then we need to get him somewhere where he can be treated properly." It comes as no surprise when both men have the decency to look ashamed. Lancelot shifts his hold and receives a rough gurgling noise in response, followed by a gagging up of water from Merlin's colorless lips. The boy's face contorts into obvious agony, and for a brief moment the men behold a flicker of familiar blue irises. "Merlin?" Arthur beckons, but a deep groan is all that answers him, before the fluttering movements cease, and Merlin's pained expression eases.

"He's alive, just unconscious," Lancelot assures, seeing the damaged chest of his friend rise and fall with continued wispy breaths.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but has everyone forgotten that there is something that hunts us beneath these waters? We don't know when it might return, or if there may be others," Sir Lorvel announces, already astride his horse again. Gwaine glares at him, but the others only offer reluctant, to accent the trauma of the situation) nods of agreement.

As if ordered, Leon and Elyan take initiative and quickly begin retrieving the slightly dispersed horses. It comes as a relief to both men when the animals seem to have visibly calmed since the beast's abrupt disappearance.

"We need to get Merlin onto a mount," Lancelot states factually.

"How about it, Percy, will you help me get him on my horse?" Gwaine asks, his casual words belying his grave concern, as he shifts the slight burden within his and Lancelot's arms.

When Percival muscles forward, Arthur lets himself get pushed aside. He watches guiltily as the large man gently takes Merlin's smaller frame and hefts it into his strong arms.

Arthur feels spent; he doesn't quite know how to deal with all that has just happened. When approached, he numbly takes the reins of his horse from Elyan before mounting stiffly. Despite his overwhelming sense of remorse, he can't look away from the scene unfolding before him. He watches Percival as he and Lancelot situate Merlin in front of Gwaine, who seems all too eager to take hold of the younger man once more. At the sight Arthur can't help but feel the slight burn of jealously slithering through his chest. In fact, he's almost overwhelmed by the deep seated need to be the one to carry the devastation he has caused. However, when his mouth moves to protest, it's his ever present shame that keeps him from giving the order.

When all the men are mounted, Leon brings his horse alongside the prince's, a rolled parchment clutched tightly in his hands, "We need to find dry land and fresh water, and according to our maps we're much closer to the northern end of this swamp than if we simply tried to double back," he comments, "Besides, heading south for Camelot would be a fool's errand. Merlin wouldn't make the three day journey even if we tried."

Arthur looked over at Leon and nodded grimly. "What of the nearest populations?"

"As far as I can tell, the town of Welshire would be the nearest and most likely to have some sort of physician available. If we can get Merlin there, Grensweld is half a day's ride away. We would still be able to obey the instructions of the king and defeat the beast that has been plaguing the northern villages."

Arthur processes the information and swallows thickly, "Alright then," he agrees, turning his torso around to look back at his men, "We are to ride north to Welshire. I want everyone to remain close, and keep your eyes open for any disturbances in the water. As we proceed, remain as quiet as possible. It might have been our voices that attracted the creature to us in the first place."

There is a round of ‘ayes’, and ‘yes sires’ before Arthur takes a moment to look one last time at Merlin's dark head nestled against Gwaine's shoulder, "Is he-?" Gwaine holds up a silencing hand and interrupts, his voice cool and firm, "You just focus on guiding our walking buffet line out of this God forsaken place, and leave Merlin to me."

Arthur narrows his eyes disapprovingly at the knight, and the older man has the audacity to give a daring defiant, purposeful look of his own. With a hiss of breath through his teeth, Arthur turns away and urges his horse to trudge forward through the waters. He doesn't have time for this—Merlin doesn't have time.

It seemed like the dense marshes would never end, but they soon found themselves wading past fewer trees. And despite the lateness of the day, their surroundings were brighter now that the thick canopy of vegetation above them was no longer there to block the illuminating rays.

As an expanse of solid ground slowly drifted into view, the heavy silence that had been hanging over the group of men quickly dissipated into relieved sighs and matching exclamations. To Arthur, the grassy plain that drew nearer was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. There lay his redemption.

Lancelot handed his reins to Elyan, who was tying the mounts to some nearby trees, before crossing the developing camp to where Percival was now laying Merlin down onto a carefully constructed pallet.

"Somebody bring me a waterskin and some clean cloths," Gwaine requests as he kneels next to Merlin and carefully begins peeling the tattered remnants of the younger man's jacket and tunic away from his torso. When the seeping, torn flesh reveals itself he can't help but curse, which is then followed by a collective gasp of horror as several others choose to brave curious looks at the unnerving sight, as well.

"I need a knife," he informs the spectators, while trying to remove some of the more solid fragments. There's a brief moment before the knight looks up to see Arthur dropping to his knees across from him and silently begins using his dagger to cut the ruined garments away. Gwaine opens his mouth to protest, but Lancelot eyes him warningly, causing the words that had risen to his lips to remain unspoken. With a huff of agitation, he simply holds, and carefully maneuvers Merlin's body as they finish removing the sodden fabric.

The skin of the servant's abdomen is a mass of puncture marks and jagged torn flesh, blood still pumping out of the mess of traumatized skin.

A piercing whistle of appraisal sounds and everyone looks up to see Sir Lorvel towering above them, "You're wasting your time, with no physician and wounds like that; the boy's as good as dead."

Several of the men suck in abashed breaths while Gwaine chooses to lunge angrily. It takes the older knight by surprise to find that it's Arthur who has jumped up and is now holding his arms back this time. Gwaine's eyes flash furiously at the nerve, but Arthur simply stares back, neither fazed, nor intimidated. The prince looks Gwaine firmly in the eye and he can see the order to back down, despite the lack of words.

"Sir Lorvel," Arthur announces, clearly agitated, "We are in need of a fire. As the circumstance leaves us without a servant to do so, I require you to go gather the wood we need."

Lorvel looks briefly indignant, but says nothing as he turns away and strides towards the nearby trees.

"Bloody arse," Gwaine mutters, visibly relaxing, allowing Arthur to quickly release his grip on the older man's arm. Without a word to one another, the men return their attention to where it was supposed to be, though Lancelot was already assisting Percival in cleaning Merlin's wounds with fresh water from their skins.

"What can be done for him?" Elyan asks, eyeing the injuries.

"I don't know," Lancelot admits.

Percival watches the concerned looks passing over the other men's faces, and with a resigned sigh, he returns his gaze back to Merlin, "My father was a simple physician in my village," he announces shyly, "Though he passed when I was young, I still remember a few things that he taught me. This in no way makes me a healer, but I'll do what I can to help."

"What do you need?" Arthur asks, renewed hope ghosting through his voice.

"A needle and thread if there's any. I could also use wine or honey, and any herbs that might be of some help."

"I have some thread in my pack, a needle too," Elyan reveals, "Guinevere always packs them for me in case I need to repair anything. It may not be quite what you're looking for, but it should work," he explains while moving to retrieve the items.

"And I," Gwaine announces, "have the good stuff" in a flurry of movement Gwaine hands over a small skin of potent liquid.

"I can't believe you brought that," Arthur sputters, "Drinking is strictly forbidden on missions such as this."

"Stuff it, Princess, and be glad I did."

Arthur eyes him with a pseudo air of exasperation, but silently he praises the man for is fondness of alcohol.

"I'm afraid that's all we have, except this small pouch of willow bark in Merlin's pack," Lancelot comments, "We can use it for the pain if he should awaken."

"When," Gwaine corrects fiercely, causing Lancelot to look at him with stifled confusion, "You said _if_ , I'm saying _when_ -when he awakens."

Lancelot's eyes widen briefly, before his expression sweeps over into understanding and he accedes, "Yes, of course. When."

The men fail to quell their fascination as Percival's large calloused hands move gently over Merlin's torso and manage to intricately sow the jagged wounds together with a precision that none thought the big man capable of.

It takes hours and by the time Percival stops to pull away he's been working by firelight for a good while. He quietly wipes the blood from his hands, and then blinks the ache from his eyes with a sigh.

"Now what?" Gwaine questions from beside him.

"Now we wait," he answers, pulling himself to his feet, while stretching the tension from his shoulders. Percival lets his eyes glance over at the other knight before motioning towards the empty water skins that lay discarded nearby, "We need water," he says seriously, "There's little left for our consumption and that alone is a problem, but without more, we cannot wash and treat the wounds properly. As it stands it is likely that infection will set in."

"Then I'll ride come first light to the nearest water source," Arthur's voice announces from behind them.

"Then, if you'll let me, I will join you sire," Percival offers, turning to face the prince.

"As will I," Lancelot asserts.

Arthur nods in concurrence, "It's settled then. The three of us will ride out tomorrow, all the rest of you can stay and guard the camp. Until then, however, we will need to ration what little water we have left; we'll have to drink sparingly."

Arthur stood for a moment, watching as the rest of the men set about their various tasks, his eyes wandered aimlessly until falling on the supine figure a few meters away. Every time he caught sight of the familiar pale skin, a lump would form in his throat as he barely resisted the intense pull that beckoned him to venture closer. He bravely takes one step forward before he tears his eyes away wretchedly and stalks over to the other side of the fire. With a frustrated groan Arthur sits down, his eyes sliding over to Merlin once more. This time, the servant was but a silhouette against the light of the dancing flames. While observing, the young royal feels a small pang of envy rear up as Gwaine positions himself next to Merlin and quietly initiates a one-sided conversation with the unresponsive boy. _'I'll fix this,'_ Arthur vows to his servant silently, _'I swear.'_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~_

AN: Ok, so I totally hate the illustration in this chapter *gag* it just wouldn't cooperate with me and turned out kinda wonky *sigh* oh well :P


	4. In Search for Water

AN: Keep watching my Icon for the fanart for each chapter as it comes out. If you want to see the bigger unedited/uncropped versions then check out my AO3 account since the illustrations are posted there within the story, or you can see all 13 illustrations on my deviantart account under the name texasislandr  

Once again, thank you to the wonderful, the amazing EchoRose480 who is the awesome beta for this story.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4 – In Search of Water

They had been gone for several hours already, and most of the time had been passed in peaceful silence. There were a few words undoubtedly passed between them, but nothing had led to any lasting conversation, and Arthur found himself missing Merlin's incessant nattering more and more. Of course, this only seemed to feed his already long list of reasons to wallow in guilt.

"You're angry with me," Arthur accuses, immediately flinching when the words seem all too desperate to end the lingering quiet. They have the desired effect though, because Lancelot gives him a sidelong glance.

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Certainly."

"Then, with all due respect sire, Gwaine is angry. I am more disappointed than anything," he responds.

Arthur closes his eyes and nods in acceptance. He's not surprised at all by the answer; in truth he's disappointed in himself too. He knew Lancelot was too honorable to deny harboring any ill feelings toward him, and he knows he's picking at an uncomfortable subject, but he can't help but press forward, "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Lancelot frowns at him and rubs a hand over his face with a sigh, "Would you still be sorry if there hadn't been something in the water, or would you have simply continued to find the situation funny?"

Arthur knows his expression must be one of shock, and he wants to say that he would have been apologetic afterwards, but in the end he's ashamed with the knowledge that he probably wouldn't have been. He closes his eyes and doesn't look at the other knight again, but that doesn't keep Lancelot from pursuing. Besides even without a verbal response, he is sure his silence is answer enough to the question,

"And, that's why I'm disappointed," Lancelot professes, "Merlin would do anything for you Sire, he's loyal to a fault, and despite the lack of credit he's given, he's also brave--incredibly so."

"I know he is."

"No, I don't think you do," Lancelot counters doubtfully, "When we were all knighted, it was because we had proven ourselves. We earned your respect, yet Merlin has done far more and is still denied the equality you so freely gave the rest of us. He deserves better, he deserves your recognition."

"Don't you think I know that?!" Arthur hisses defensively, glaring at the older man.

"No, I _know_ you know it. The problem is, that I don't think _Merlin_ knows you know, and as I said before, he deserves far better. Would it really be so hard to let him know that you appreciate his loyalty, his…dare I say, friendship?"

Arthur feels his stomach twist as he forces himself to look over and meet the other man's dark eyes, and vows "I'll make it right. I swear to you. "

Lancelot simply gives him an encouraging half smile, "I know you will."

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Merlin's eyelids flutter repetitively, dark lashes stroking pale skin. Gwaine sighs as he watches the small movement, wishing all the while that the lids would open and reveal the blue irises beneath. He would do anything just to see those cracked lips spread and give him their familiar toothy grin, but considering the circumstances, all the wishing in the world wouldn't make it so.

Letting his eyes pass once more over the peeling layers on the boy's lips, Gwaine inhales deeply and reaches over for his water skin, preparing to wet the younger man's parched skin. The knight notes his container's lack of weight, and, with a deepening frown, realizes it is empty just like the one before it. Growling in frustration he tosses the dry vessel to the side, looking over to the other men.

"I need more water," he announces, looking at them expectantly, "I need to try and get something down into him."

When Elyan looks up from the fire he's stoking, Gwaine feels his heart plummet at the apologetic expression his dark face holds.

"I'm sorry Gwaine, really I am, but mines also empty, and so is Leon's."

Gwaine sends a glace to Leon who nods his head in regretful agreement, and he swallows thickly, "What about yours Lorvel?"

"It wouldn't matter" the man mutters snidely, and Gwaine can feel his irritation mounting, "What's that supposed to mean?" he demands.

"It _means_ ," Lorvel drawls, "that I wouldn't give the last of my resources to a peasant boy, especially _him_."

Gwaine suspects Elyan can see his face contorting in anger, because the man is holding up his hand in a pacifying gesture. "Look now, the Prince has gone to retrieve more. Our rations will soon be replenished and there will be plenty for everyone."

"There's no guarantee in that, they might not find anything and then I'm going to need this," he scoffs, dangling his water skin at his companions flauntingly.

That was it; Gwaine was officially seeing red, "I want to know what your problem is you bastard,  I’ve had just about enough of you!" he shouts lividly, spittle flying from his lips as he stumbles to his feet.

"My problem is that _that_ servant,” Lorvel hisses, his finger pointing at the unconscious man. “doesn’t know his place, _never_ has. And it seems to me that neither do you,"

 _'Screw propriety and codes'_ Gwaine thinks as he squares his shoulders and glares at the older man balefully, "Give me the damn water!"

"I'd rather give it to my horse than to that boy!" the knight sneers, and that's it. With those arrogant words he has sealed his fate.

In a flash, Gwaine is across the camp and lunging at the older man, tackling the knight to the ground. Then they are tumbling, their bodies rolling in the dirt as their hands grapple at each other for purchase. "Get this lunatic off of me!" Lorvel shrieks.

In moments, Gwaine feels Elyan's strong hands on his shoulders as the other two knights move in to separate the fight. Taking advantage of the distraction, he swings his clinched fist forward, and is satisfied with the resounding crack that follows.

As he's being dragged backwards across the ground, he doesn't bother struggling, because he's accomplished what he wanted to and is now perfectly content to watch the other man clutch at his damaged nose.

"Did you see that?!" Lorvel sputters indignantly to Leon as he tries to staunch the blood flow with his hand, "That riffraff hit me! That's why commoners don't deserve knighthoods."

Whatever Gwaine was expecting as Leon's response, he was sure watching the knight's fist collide with the other man's face was not it.

He looks on in morbid pleasure as Lorvel drops to the ground with a pained exclamation, and then Gwaine flicks his eyes up to lock with Leon's. The seasoned knight simply shrugs innocently and confesses "I've wanted to do that for weeks."

Elyan is obviously as shocked as he is, but that doesn't keep Gwaine from grinning like a loon.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

 _'This can't be happening'_ Arthur thinks desperately as he drops to one knee. With a shaky breath he lets his fingers run through the dirt beneath him, a feeling of failure running through him as he pulls up on a dry, curled plate. He rises to his feet and stares at the clot disparagingly. There was supposed to be water here, but there was nothing, nothing except a few stagnant puddles. With growing frustration he crushes the earth in his hand before tossing it away from him with a curse.

"What do we do now sire?" Percival asks hesitantly from behind him, and Arthur just hangs his head with a troubled sigh. He lets himself breathe deeply a moment, tipping his head back and looking up at the sky above him. When he turns to face his companions, he's met with expectant looks, and he steels his face into a mask of determination. "We keep looking," he answers firmly, striding past the two men, and towards his horse. There were other locations etched on the map, and as God as his witness he swore he was going to find one with what Merlin needed.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: Well, not much happens this chapter, but I have to say that Leon takes the slot of most favorite scene for me in this :D I decided the normally reserved Knight needed to have a moment made of pure awesomeness, which is why I chose that scene to illustrate :P


	5. The Hunting Grounds

AN: Well, here is Chapter 5 and the new illustration. I hope you all enjoy :D The art for this was made like 2 1/2 years ago lol. I made this when I first started trying to use photoshop :P

Once again, thank you to the wonderful, the amazing EchoRose480 who is the awesome beta for this story.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5 – The Hunting Grounds

Arthur's stride up the incline halts as soon as his booted feet trip on something hidden by the mounds of natural debris beneath him., "What the hell is that?" he curses, after several loud cracks resound from the ground below. With graceful movements, he swiftly side steps, and lets his eyes sweep over the disturbed earth. Carefully he nudges the solid tip of his boot against the dirt, moving the dried leaves away. "A skull?" he announces, pushing again at the now fractured object.

"That's not an animal," Lancelot states, coming to stand beside him, "That's human."

Unconsciously, each of the men let their hands slide down to come to rest on the hilts of their swords, the three of them continuing forward with reserved caution as they move up the small rise in the rolling terrain.

"Sire, you need to see this." Percival announces from up ahead, both feet planted firmly on the crest.

As they approach, they find themselves unable to comprehend the horrific scene that spans the earth before them. They stare with eyes wide in shock at the immeasurable accumulation of bones splayed out across the grounds. 

"It's a mass grave," Lancelot breathes, clearly unnerved as he realizes that amongst the conglomeration of animal remains, that a fair amount of the decay appeared to be very human.

Arthur's frown deepens with his disagreement, "No," he voices, eyes scanning watchfully over the area that spreads out and surrounds the shore, "This is a hunting ground."

Even with a growing sense of foreboding, Arthur squares his shoulders and begins his descent as quietly as possible. "Keep your eyes open," He orders gravely, eyes pausing briefly on the mangled and bloody remains of a recently dismembered stag, "Whatever has done all of this is still here…somewhere."

Carefully, each of the men find their way to the water's edge and begin the process of replenishing the empty skins one at a time, as soundlessly as possible.

"This should be enough," Arthur states, confidently placing the stopper on the final bag. _'It's done'_ he thinks to himself as he stands with an accomplished sigh of relief. Looking down he fumbles with a small leather cord, taking time to secure the new provisions to his belt for travel. When he looks up he fully expects to see his companions ready to head out. Instead, he finds both of the men's expressions frozen with varying degrees of seriousness. "The birds," Percival utters warily, "All the birds-everything has gone quiet."

Arthur's eyes widen as he understands what the large knight is trying to convey. The animals had ceased their chatter for a reason; they knew that whatever had caused the carnage around these waters was near.

All eyes were scanning the surrounding trees with such anxiety and fervor, it came as a surprise when the water behind them gurgled, and then erupted. Immediately, all swords are free from their scabbards, the screeching of metal on metal melding with the hisses coming from the creature behind them. Swiftly, they turn around, blades up and ready for battle. By the time Arthur can even register what he is looking at, he finds himself completely enveloped by the towering beast's shadow.

An enormous serpent stands erected from the depths, sections of its long, curving body disappearing beneath the waters, while the rest looms out into the exposed air. The creature stares predatorily, its gaze unwavering. Then, in a flurry of movement, it strikes.

The knights scatter, and Percival finds himself faced with the brunt of the first attack. He bellows out a challenging roar as he brings his sword around and prepares to meet the beast's fangs head on, tooth to steel. The two come together in a violent clash and despite Percival's uncommon strength, he stumbles back under the force pressing down on him. The serpent hisses, sending a puff of vile air ghosting over him, and the knight can't help but cringe at the smell of death and rotting flesh. He growls disgustedly, and swings his sword forward. His blade skids across its large teeth before drawing blood with a nick of its gums. With an angry shriek the beast jerks back, eyes narrowing on its target before striking again, fangs bared. This time, Lancelot's sword defensively joins with Percival's, both knights' arms trembling underneath the strain. "Keep it distracted!" Arthur shouts, "I'm going to try to get below it."

"We'll do our best," Lancelot answers between breaths, flinching as the creatures tongue flicks across his exposed neck, leaving a smear of clear oozing film to slide uncomfortably down his skin.

Locked in a violent shoving game, both knights push together in an attempt to free their blades. Once released, Percival rolls to the left, drawing the monstrosity's attention, while Lancelot lunges forward and strikes a strong blow to the creature's elongated body. The knight watches, disheartened, as his blade merely scrapes across the thick hide, and he is rewarded with nothing more than an agitated growl emerging from the predator.

"It's armored!" Lancelot sharply warns the prince who is currently coming up under the head of the best that was at present towering over Percival, dwarfing the normally big man. Arthur nods discretely, and adjusts his aim for the softer looking area under its jaw. With an unbridled roar, the young royal thrusts his blade up until it connects forcefully, a satisfying, shrill cry filling his ears as the steel continues to push through the mass of flesh. The blade then lodges itself into the roof of the creature's mouth.

The reaction is immediate, the beast jerks violently, wrenching the sword from Arthur's hands, while swinging its head to the side, striking Percival and sending the man skidding across the ground. With a shrieking roar the serpent rears and protracts its body, water running unhindered down its newly emerged scales. Blood is now pouring from the wound, sliding down to pool over the hilt of Arthur's sword, and the beast tosses its head in an attempt to free its sealed jaws.

The three men are so preoccupied with regrouping and watching the creature's distress, they fail to see its tail stealthily sliding up onto the shore behind them. The serpent appears to calm down, or at least it seems to until it gives a livid gurgling hiss and lashes out. The scaly member jettisons forward and vengefully wraps itself around the nearest offender.

With a cry of surprise, Arthur finds hinds himself crushingly encircled by a coiled tail. Before he can even attempt to struggle he feels himself torn from the earth with dizzying speed. Percival's and Lancelot's panicked shouts follow after him as he sails through the air, and he wants to open his mouth and shout a command, but there is no time. Seconds after being snatched he finds himself swiftly pulled beneath the darkened waters with no weapon in his hands, and no apparent escape in sight.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Gwaine furrows his brow in concern as soon as his finger's touch the unconscious man's bare skin. 'No! Not now, please not now.' He worries, and with a hiss moves closer and lets his full palm slide up and come to rest on Merlin's pale face. "Damn it!" he curses, his fears quickly confirmed. He didn't have to be a healer to know what the unnatural heat coming from the boy meant. A fever was developing, and fast. The lightly simmering skin was simply a precursor, a form of announcement that infection had already started to set in and take hold. He had dared hope that Merlin would defy the odds as he had always done. Obviously, hoping hadn't been enough.

Two hours pass, and Gwaine never leaves Merlin's side. He just sits and watches with an aching chest as the younger man begins to murmur—lost in the delusions of his own fevered mind. The words start off slurred, few and far between, but then, as time begins to lengthen, they too grow stronger. The ramblings remain unintelligible, and Gwaine has long since given up on trying to understand them. He lifts a hand and rubs his fingertips across his eyes. He feels tired, and his throat is dry from lack of water and telling countless stories to the unhearing ears of his comrade.

There's a hitch in Merlin's breathing, and the older man instinctively moves closer, his dark eyes running questioningly over his wounded companion. The pause ends with a brief inhale and then Merlin's chapped lips begin to move rhythmically once more. "…eftsið æne eft…hwirfling leoht…" He hoarsely chants, and now it's Gwaine's turn to let the air within his own lungs freeze haltingly, "wæcnan…gewissian se foldweg"

Despite the lack of comprehension, the knight is in no way a naïve man. He's heard the language Merlin is fluently uttering before, and he has no disillusions as to what he's hearing. 'Oh, Hell!'

"What are you doing mate?" Gwaine mutters, watching as Merlin goes quiet. The silence begins to deepen and the man finds himself waiting nervously to see if anything else will spill forth. Whatever he was preparing for, he certainly was not expecting the blinding flash of brilliant light.

"Shit!" he chokes, because there, within the palm of Merlin's twitching hand, sits a bright, swirling blue orb. With another muttered curse, he quickly grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over the blatant use of magic. He throws a worried look over his shoulder, praying to everything that is holy in the world that the rest of the camp had missed the spontaneous light show. He lets the breath he's holding slowly ease out once he's certain that no one else has seen the unnatural manifestation.

"Merlin, mate," he announces, awed, "You sure know how to surprise a guy."

With a shake of his head, he adjusts his body, moving strategically in front of the younger man in an attempt to block him from view. "I have to admit my friend, that I did not see this one coming," He reveals with a hint of amusement, "But, I guess that's why I've always liked you. You always keep life interesting."

Gwaine pushes his hair from his face, and feels the urge to protect his friend grow, "Don't worry mate, your secret's safe with me," he promises, eyes never leaving the gentle rise and fall of the boys chest.

As he sits there in contemplative silence, he can't restrain the fond smile that spreads across his lips.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Spell – “Return once again. orb of light. Come into being. Guide the way.”

A/N: Well, Arthur’s in a bit of a situation, but Gwaine knows now so Hooray! Let me know what you think :P


	6. A Familiar Light

AN: Sorry for the delay, life has been keeping me busy this past week, but Hooray, I was able to get chapter six up and running :D My art piece for this one was the first time I tried to make something appear underwater, hope it works for ya’ll. I'm particularly proud of my glowing orb lol! I never tried to make a vector before, but I thought it turned out great for a magic effect.  

Once again, thank you to EchoRose480, you are an amazing and wonderful beta.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin :P

Chapter 6: A Familiar Light

When the cold water envelops him, Arthur has to fight the instinctive urge to gasp in shock. He feels himself being dragged down with dizzying speed, all the whooshing rushing of the water around him making it difficult to retain his senses. _'Focus,'_ he scolds. He knows he's in trouble, knows that hope is failing, but he clings desperately to the idea, amidst the continuous pain and panic , that he's been in far worse places, and has arisen victoriously. He pushes all thoughts of death aside, because he can't let himself think of dying. _'You have to live, for your knights, for Camelot…for Merlin.'_ If he dies, Merlin dies and he refuse to accept that their journey upon this earth ends here.

Everything within him is shouting _'Fight!, Fight!'_ but his foe can't be seen, there's nothing but darkness, a cold and consuming void sucking the life from him every passing second. He attempts to use his fingers to claw at the scales that are wrapped firmly around his chest and neck, but his struggles only seem to make the creature tighten its hold. It takes all of his will power to ignore his lungs' pleas for air. Arthur knows if he gives in, it will be over, and he will perish as the water invades his body.

The next moments happen so fast that Arthur almost thinks he's dreaming; he almost believes that his air starved mind hallucinates the flicker of light that flashes briefly across his peripheral vision. However, in a blinding display, the Prince is taken back by the luminescent orb that quickly forms in front of him. _'It's beautiful'_ he thinks, but most of all, its familiar, and he recognizes it immediately. He is so focused on the object that his fingers unconsciously begin to reach for it, unguided. It's mesmerizing; so much so, that he fails to see the creatures face now highlighted, until it is nearly upon him.

He’s so surprised by the sudden appearance of teeth and scales, that what little breath is left in his lungs comes rushing out with a garbled curse. The orb seems to move protectively in front of the Prince, pulsing brighter as the creature approaches. The light grows more and more piercingly bright until Arthur can no longer keep his eyes open and is forced to slam them shut. There's an odd sensation against his skin that he can't explain, but he doesn't fear it. It's not unpleasant, just strangely peaceful.

Within seconds, the creature violently shudders, its body uncoiling from his body with an agonizing shriek. Arthur finds himself no longer restrained, and instantly he thinks _'Freedom!'_ , his instinct to fight jolting into action. His eyes snap open, and his feet kick out in an attempt to propel himself towards the surface _. 'Just a little longer, almost there,'_ he repeats in an ever-tiring mantra, as it becomes increasingly harder to focus. His ears are thrumming; his chest is burning with the scorch of deprivation. He flings his arms out, his hands pushing up through the water. Despite the haze settling over him, he recognizes the light that drifts past him, moving upwards, guiding him. Arthur forces himself forward, following, just as he had years before, amidst the darkened recesses of the caves of Balor.

Just as he begins to believe that he has failed, that he won't make it, the water starts to clear, and the sun beams above are breaking though. With a victorious thrust, he finally emerges, his body jerking,  mouth open in desperation as air is sucked deeply into his starved chest. He turns his head, his eyes moving to lock onto the blue orb that hovers curiously over him.

"Who …w…what are you?" he asks, chest still heaving. He wishes for some sort of response, but the light simply flickers at him and vanishes.

There are shouts coming from behind him, and Arthur turns to find Lancelot and Percival wading into the water towards him, his name forming repetitively on their lips. Undeterred by his weariness, he swims forward, kicking is legs in an attempt to reach shore. There's relief when he feels his boots strike the bottom of the lake, and then Percival is there beside him, steading him as he stumbles wearily towards the shore.

"Are you alright sire?" the bigger man inquires, and Arthur can't help but laugh breathily, and shake his head. "I'll be better once I'm out of this damned lake."

"What was that thing?" Lancelot spouts as he helps guide the prince towards dry land. Arthur thinks about the orb and shakes his head in confusion. "I have no idea, but I've seen it before" he admits.

Lancelot looks genuinely surprised when he says "You've seen that creature before?"

Arthur's brow furrows, clearly puzzled, until he realizes what Lancelot meant, "What? No! I was talking about the light that guided me to the surface; I've seen it once before, years ago."

It appears as if Lancelot is going to say something further, but as he takes the first steps onto the bank he decides to respond with a silent nod instead.  Arthur eagerly follows him, letting his body drop to the blessedly solid earth with a drawn out groan.

"I'm sorry sire, but we need to move," Percival informs, as he reaches down to retrieve his discarded sword, "The sooner we reach the horses the better."

"Wait!" Arthur voices, his hand suddenly clutching at his bare hip, and the precious cargo it had been deprived of. "The water, do either of you still have any water?" 

"Don't worry sire. We still have eight skins left." Percival reassures.

Relieved, Arthur nods, "Good. Then let's get the hell out of here," He says, pulling his legs shakily beneath him.

The three men ride in silence, following a brief explanation of the events that had transpired within the lake. As his horse moves steadily underneath him, Arthur lets his mind wander towards the light that had saved his life for a second time. He tips his head up to the sky looking at the drifting clouds, and once again can't help but feel like someone or something magical is watching over him. He knows that the blatant sorcery should make his skin crawl; it's what he's been taught. But it doesn't. The orb itself emitted a sense of calmness and peace, its brilliant blue reassuringly familiar, but he can't remember from where. He finds himself both strangely awed, and fascinated. He knows his father would be horrified. _'But do I care?'_ he asks himself _'The truth of the matter is…I really don't.'_ That single revelation feels like freedom.


	7. An Oath to Protect

AN: Once again, thank you to EchoRose480, you are an amazing and wonderful beta.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 7 - An Oath to Protect

When they finally reach the camp, Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. He is the first off his mount, his hands quickly unclasping the full water skins and handing them to Leon, who moved to greet the arriving party.

"I see you were successful," The knight commented as he took the skins.

"Barely," Arthur huffs, not noticing the man's questioning look as his attention is already on his servant.

"How is he?"

Leon follows the younger man's gaze and shakes his head gravely, "It was as Percival predicted. Infection has set in; he burns with fever even now."

Arthur looks at him sharply, concern marring his features, "For how long?"

"Early afternoon, at the least."

Arthur immediately gravitates towards Merlin, who is sprawled out on his bedroll beside the fire, sheets twisted around him in disarray. The prince drops to his knees and grunts at the harsh impact, but ignores his own body’s protestations, as he hesitantly lifts a calloused palm and brings it to rest on the servant’s sweaty brow. The skin that he meets with is worryingly hot, and he can’t hold back a grimace as he continues to feel the unrelenting waves of heat radiating off the servant's body.

"God," he hisses with a deepening frown. Carefully, he slips his hand underneath Merlin's neck and lifts him up, bringing a fresh skin to his peeling lips. With a slight tilt, he sends the water trickling into the boy's mouth, and instinctively Merlin sputters and gags for a few moments before unconsciously swallowing the soothing liquid. Gently, Arthur lays Merlin back, removing his fingers from the man's nape. Quietly, he pours some fresh water onto a small cloth, and then proceeds to place the cooled rag on his servant's brow.

"Sire, we've prepared some food," Elyan announces, "It's not much, though," he warns.

"I'm sure it's fine," Arthur answers, his eyes never leaving the prone form before him.

~~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Gwaine's face morphs into shock, and he can't help the look of surprise he sends at Merlin. Arthur was in the process of describing the blue orb he had experienced as he battled the giant serpent, and Gwaine didn't need to hear any more details to know that it had been the same one he had seen conjured within his friend's palm. Despite the unexpected events, he tries to return his features to a more neutral expression.

Lancelot, however, catches a glimpse of the flickering emotions, and wouldn't have paid any further attention if not for the flash of recognition that passes momentarily though the other man's eyes. That one expression, followed by the quick glance he sends towards Merlin, is enough to have the blood in Lancelot's veins turning instantly cold. He can only hope beyond hope that he is reading too much into the reaction, but as the minutes tick by, he can't ignore his growing suspicions.

After the knights begin to settle down, Lancelot gradually makes his move towards Merlin, fully intent on being the one to watch over him through the oncoming night. He eyes Gwaine cautiously as he approaches, watching as he tucks a second blanket around the boy's torso. "You look exhausted, why don't you take a rest? I'll watch over Merlin for a bit."

Lancelot's keen eyes capture the flicker of worry that Gwaine fails to suppress, "No thanks mate, I'm just peachy. I'll handle things around here."

 _‘He's obviously lying,’_ Lancelot tells himself, for the dark lines beneath his eyes speak of little sleep, "You've been watching over him for hours. Let someone else have a go," he persisted.

It's quite clear by Gwaine's expression that the man doesn't like his insistence. He can almost see the protective vibes rolling off the older knight in waves.

Deciding to brave some slight insinuation, he composes his features and looks the other man dead in the eye, "Nothing out of the ordinary happened here while we were away did it?"

Looking briefly startled, Gwaine seems to bristle at the statement, drawing himself to full height, " _Abso_ lutely _nothing_ ," Gwaine emphasizes.

"Really?" Lancelot questions, "Nothing _illuminating_?"

Gwaine's face visible darkens, "I don't know what you're talking about," he hisses fiercely, yet quietly, shooting a look over his shoulder to ensure their continued privacy.

"I think you _do_ ," Lancelot pushes.

"And _I_ think you've had a few to many strikes to the head by that serpent you encountered."

"Stop deflecting. You either understand what I’m trying to say or you don't, but I'm not revealing any more until I have further proof of the depth of your knowledge, because the consequences would be too catastrophic!" he growled, pointedly gesturing to Merlin with his eyes.

Gwaine exchanges sizable glances between Lancelot and his unconscious friend, before swallowing, and intently focusing on the man before him. "I _may_ have seen something, but how do I know that what _I_ know is what _you_ know."

Lancelot huffs irritably, "This is beginning to sound ridiculous."

"You started it, mate."

"Yes, I guess I did," he mutters.

With a soft sigh and new resolve, Lancelot squares his shoulders, "Merlin's a good man," he states factually.

"You won't find any arguments from me."

"We've been friends a long time, him and I. In that time, we've been through a lot together, we know things about one another, and he has my utmost trust and _my_ …protection."

Gwaine nods as if he is starting to accept what he is saying. "So you're saying you know how _special_ he is?"

Lancelot can't help the glimmer in his eye when he smirks and waggles his fingers at Gwaine briefly. "Oh, _believe_ me I _know_."

"Magic," Gwaine says almost breathlessly and Lancelot feels the building tension begin to dissipate. "Yeah," he agrees.

"I'll protect him too, you know," Gwaine confesses.

"I know you will, and now he has the both of us to watch over him."

"Swear to it on whatever you find sacred," Gwaine demands, extending his right hand towards the older man. Lancelot smiles confidently and reaches out to take the proffered appendage, "I swear as a knight of Camelot."

"And I swear on my friendship with Merlin," Gwaine finishes, tightening his grip as he flashes a grin of his own, "Anyone else have any surprises that I should be aware of?"

"No, don't worry. Merlin is one of a kind," Lancelot reassures, "Though, you should be aware that Gaius withholds this secret also."

"That's understandable, given their relationship. What about the Princess?"

Both men's eyes unconsciously look over to where Arthur is seated near Leon, "No. I doubt he even suspects."

Gwaine lets out a low whistle, "How do you think he'd react?"

Lancelot wants to be optimistic for Merlin's sake, but in reality he just…"I don't know," he answers in all honesty, "I just don't know."

With that, the two men lapse into a comfortable silence, both awaiting morning to appear, and for their journey to continue.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hooray, Lance and Gwaine are in it together now :D I hope ya’ll enjoyed this chapter.


	8. Journey to Welshire

A/N: Sorry for the delay, real life has had me busy :D Thanks again EchoRose480, you are an amazing and wonderful beta.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8 – Journey to Welshire

"What the…" Gwaine warily eyes the arrival of, yet, two more vultures as the group continues to amble across the countryside. He had spotted the first one in a tree near camp before they left, and now there were more, making quiet passes, and they were making him feel rattled. Something about their hideously rippled faces and beady black eyes made the skin on his neck and arms crawl with unease. It was as if their presence was just _wrong_.

When the morning of their second day of travel towards Welshire came, they awakened to even more vulture’s nesting watchfully in the trees, one had even bravely perched itself on nearby log.

"What do you want?!" Gwaine hollers up at them in agitation.

"They smell impending death in the air," Lorvel taunts flippantly.

Gwaine looks from the hideous birds to the fevered man beside him and begins to snarl. Instantly, his hands are swiping at the dirt, grasping any and all solid objects he can gather. Then, he's on his feet, and with an angered cry he's hurling sticks, stones, and even his own boots at the feathered beasts.

Lorvel smirks and smugly turns his head away from the commotion only to see Percival cracking the knuckles on his large hands, his eyes gazing warningly into his own. He was considering a few platitudes when a shadow descended over his frame. Swallowing thickly he shifted to look up and meet with the towering form of the prince. Arthur stood there with an expression equal parts mortification and anger. 

"Do not think that your father's name allows you to do and say as you please. You are a knight of Camelot, and you will speak with honor. I will not hear another discourteous word or statement in reference to any of my men, my servant included. Each man here has earned my respect,” Arthur pauses holding the man’s gaze with an authoritative stare before adding with inflection. “ _You_ , however, have _not_."

"I was just jesting, my lord," Lorvel sniveled, clearly chastised.

Arthur's eyes smoldered, "Jest or not, keep your silence, or I'll keep it for you.” and with that, the prince stalked away.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

The group rode in collective silence as they crossed a few of the sparsely wooded plains that stretched out before them. It was clear that up ahead the terrain would soon thicken with trees as the mountains across the horizon drew near.

The quiet of the day was disrupted by the sound of  rusty wheels turning, and foreign hooves beating the path ahead, and Arthur straightened his back, and  held his hand up, halting the riding party in their tracks. They watched quietly as a rickety cart came wheeling down the dirt road towards them.

"You there!" Arthur calls out, "Where do you hail from?"

The wagon noisily pulled up beside them, the man driving it eyeing the group before him, "Welshire," he divulges warily.

"I am Prince Arthur, and these are my knights," he introduces while taking stock of the passengers. There was a man, a woman, and three children. It was obviously a family, and they were dirty, eyes eerily haunted as they sat huddled together amongst their densely packed belongings.

"Your majesty," the older man acknowledges, bowing his head respectively, "I am Jedidiah."

"Where are you headed?" Arthur asks curiously.

"Anywhere, but here," Jedidiah says cryptically, "Better to flee now with what we can carry, than to be swept away by the demons in the sky."

"Demons?" Leon questions.

"Winged creatures!" the eldest boy, who was maybe around fourteen winters old exclaims, "Large beasts with sharp fangs and red eyes. They come from above and snatch people away."

"Like Jonathan," a little girl added tearfully, "They took Jonathan away."

Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion, "We were told that such creatures were attacking Grensweld."

"Could be," The man responds, "but, I can only speak of our town for certain."

Arthur looks back at Gwaine and to the burden he carries, and he feels a burning coil of worry tighten around his chest. He swaps a concerned glance with the knight and he’s undoubtedly thinking the same thing. Welshire was supposed to be Merlin’s salvation, without it there would be no hope for the younger man. It was evident that his servant’s condition had been gradually worsening, and even a blind man could see that Merlin would not survive the extra one day journey to further settlements. With his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest he asked the question that demanded asking. "Are there any inhabitants left?"

"Aye Milord” Jedidiah answers with a faint nod of his head. “Many have fled, but some have refused to leave their livelihoods behind. Others wait in hopes that their stolen loved ones might return." The man glances back towards the direction they had just come and then proceeds to shake his head sadly, as if trying but failing to forget those he’s just left to their fate.

"What of your physician?" Gwaine asks imploringly.

The older man takes a moment to look at the wounded body clutched in the knight’s arms, and his eyes soften pityingly. "Master Gaylen has chosen to stay, though I told him he was a fool to do so."

Arthur nodded in relief. "Thank you for your time and cooperation, and know that my men and I will do all that we can to dispatch these creatures, and bring peace to your home."

"Then my family wishes you well, sire," Jedidiah acknowledges, with a snap of his reigns. He clicks his tongue encouragingly at his old mare, and the family continues their journey towards safer territory.

"What now, sire?" Leon asks from beside him.

"We continue as we were to Welshire," he states confidently, "Their healer can see to Merlin while we find out what these creatures are and kill them." Arthur knows as soon as he sees the collective smiles  of his men, that he has successfully portrayed himself as the very epitome of strength, as would be expected of his rank and title. Truth be told though, it was all a well masked façade, for when it came down to it, his concern over Merlin had been far outweighing his thoughts on the strange beasts that were wreaking havoc across the countryside.  He was a Prince though, a knight, and his duty was to his people and those he swore head protect. He vowed to himself that they would be victorious, and that his servant would not become a casualty in this endeavor. Merlin was not a sacrifice he was willing to accept.

With a firm kick the Prince urged his mount forward, the rest of the knights swiftly moving to follow after him, each man unconsciously keeping their eyes trained on the skies above them as they rode, looking cautiously for signs of movement among the clouds.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Arthur guided his horse towards the small dwellings, watching as several people peeked curiously out through their windows.

The reaction was almost instant, and the small group of men found themselves swarmed by a throng of distraught townspeople, "Help us!" they pleaded, their hands clutching despairingly at the fabric of their breaches.

"Save us!" they continued, "Please!"

It was obvious by their greeting that the people recognized them as knights of Camelot and had quickly sought them out as their saviors. Arthur looked down in surprise at the sea of wild and terrified eyes filled with desperate hope, and prayed to every deity that he would not fail them.

"Let them through!" a voice bellowed from behind the masses, "For God's sakes let them through!"

The people, startled, slowly began to part, revealing a man of medium height, middle aged, judging by the graying of his hair.

"You are from Camelot," the man assumes.

Arthur dismounts and nods in agreement, "I am Prince Arthur, and we have come to offer assistance.”

"Then we welcome you gladly, your majesty. My name is Gaylen, I am the town's physician. Forgive the onslaught, for in recent weeks many have fallen victim to the attacks, the people are terrified."

"There is nothing to forgive, but before we discuss the situation, we are in need of your help. One of my men was attacked several days ago and is in need of treatment. We hoped you would be able to help him where we cannot."

Gaylen looks passed Arthur and watches Percival approach with Merlin clutched in his arms, "Certainly," he says, eyes widening at the sight of the injured boy.

"Martha!" Gaylen calls out to a nearby woman, "Open a room in the inn, and have Anna boil water and gather any spare linens."

"Please follow me," he instructs, glancing to the skies, "We should not linger outside for any longer than necessary."

Gaylen runs his fingers across Merlin's pale torso, carefully examining the stitched skin, "This was done considerably well," he remarks, and Percival blushes silently.

"I must warn you that even though I will do what I can to treat the boy, there are many patients suffering from similar injuries here as well. We suffer attacks almost daily, and my time and supplies are stretched thin as it is."

"I can promise that you will be well compensated," Arthur encourages.

Gaylen looks up sharply, "That's all well and good sire, but you cannot buy what no longer exists. I can help all I can, but my medicine stores are almost bare."

"Is there no way to gather more?" Gwaine asks.

"No one dares to go into the fields to retrieve the necessary herbs. It's suicide. Several have tried, but none have succeeded. It's a fool's errand, many were slaughtered, for there is no cover, and once the creatures have you in their sights, running is futile, and the end is swift."

Despite the warning, Percival stepped forward, "I know many of the plants that would be of use. If you would allow me sire, I would like to try and retrieve what I can."

"And I'll watch his back," Gwaine interjects with a grin, patting the larger man's shoulder.

Arthur looks at the two and wants to object, but a glance at Merlin’s shockingly pallid features stills his tongue. When he recovers enough to respond, he is interrupted mid syllable by a piercing scream emanating from the outside. Automatically the men draw their swords and surge towards the commotion.

The knights find themselves looking upon a woman who is wailing over her now bloodied husband. A shrilling screech sends their gazes heavenward and onto a goat that is clutched in the claws of one of the flying beasts as it flies away.

"Is that a dragon?" Elyan sputters.

"No, it's far too small. That's a wyvern." Arthur concludes.

"Actually, let's make that several wyverns," Gwaine announces, pointing in the opposite direction.

There were three more in the distance and the men looked on as the beasts flew up and disappeared into the clouds.

"Well," Elyan speaks up, nudging Percival with his elbow, "Do you still want to head out into those fields?"

"Ah, hell," Percival says, earning a few looks, and Gwaine couldn't agree more.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: Gwaine was supposed to be in this illustration, but he refused to cooperate with me so I chucked him out lol! Mr. Vulture decide he wanted all the lime light :P The next 2 chapters will not have illustrations in them, I was slacking and didn’t get any done, but starting in chapter 11 we’ll be seeing their colorful return J


	9. Venturing into open Fields

A/N: Well here is the first chapter without an illustration. I thought I’d make one, but I lost my mood and was too lazy to do so :P The illustrations will pick back up in chapter 11 :D

Thanks again EchoRose480, you are an amazing and wonderful beta.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, Episode 5X13 never would have happend :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 9 - Venturing into open Fields

Percival crept slowly through the tall grasses, his large frame crouching to conceal as much of himself as was possible. Gwaine followed quietly behind, both men trying to keep their breathing steady as they advanced further into the open field. Percival kept his eyes towards the ground, swiftly scanning for any familiar vegetation that could some much needed aid. Gwaine, however, kept his eyes skyward, watching, waiting, his fingers twitching at the hilt of his sword. The temptation to draw the weapon was growing, but the need to refrain from attracting unwanted attention to its reflective surface made it easier to combat the desire.

Moments later Gwaine found himself pressed up against a well-muscled back. "Why did you stop?" he hissed quietly, stepping back to restore the space between them.

"Yarrow," Percival whispered, nodding toward the ground where his hands were busily gathering up pieces of a plant, before moving to stuff the find into his bag, which was slung over his shoulder. 

"We're going to have to move out from this brush, and get to those plants over there," Percival warned, pointing out towards where the grasses thinned out, and there would be no cover, "I can see common rue and fennel, perhaps more, but we have to get closer for me to be certain."

"Well then, my dear Percy, it was a pleasure," Gwaine smiled, with a solid clap of his hand onto the bigger man's shoulder. Without warning Gwaine launched forward, his feet rushing to keep up with his urgent speed. Percival sucked in a breath and followed suit, his eyes honed in on the bluish leaves that would be his first target.

"What now?!" Gwaine hissed, watching Percival grappling for multiple plants.

"Grab some of that plant there." Percival tossed a hand toward a cluster of vegetation.

"Which one?"

Percival snorted in frustration "The feathery one with yellow flowers"

Gwaine moved forward and started to pluck the plants carefully but swiftly from the dirt. After gathering a handful, he retreated, and brought the plants back to Percival who placed them with his own growing stash. A loud screech ceased both knights former actions, bringing their attention to the skies, "Shit!" Gwaine exclaimed, "Run! Into the trees!"

In a flurry of movement, both men leapt to their feet, drew their swords, and were moving swiftly, dirt and grass kicking up behind them, the growl of the two pursuing Wyvern growing louder as they gained on their prey and swooped down to attack.

"Behind you!" Percival warned, and Gwaine dove to the ground and sucked in a halting breath as he felt the sharp claws snag and shred the frail threads of his tunic that had been woven at the shoulder. _'Too close for comfort'_ he growled inwardly, rolling back up to his feet, and raising his sword as the creature turned to take another swipe. Percival, having stopped to help his comrade, moved to place his back against Gwaine's unprotected one. Both men held their breaths as the first wyvern closed in and it was Gwaine's sword that made the first swipe, propelling the creature back a few meters, "We won't be able to hold them off, we have to make the tree line, the forest is dense we might have a chance to lose them in there, and then circle back around to reach the town again," Percival panted, swinging another blow at the diving beasts.

"You'll hear no argument from me," Gwaine responded, before falling back against Percival with a thud. "Ouch, damn it!"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, just a flesh wound. The little bastard got me in the hand," Gwaine growled, tossing the hilt of his sword to his uninjured appendage.

"Alright," Percival announced, watching the creatures move, "They're coming in together."

"Good, if we can dispatch them upwards at the same time, we can make a break for it before they dive again."

Taking a deep breath, Gwaine watched the armored bodies approach him. He gripped his weapon tighter, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. With a cry, both men pushed forward, throwing all their strength behind the weapons in their hands. Then, as the beasts leapt back, the two knights dove into a sprint.

_'Don't look behind you,'_ Gwaine thought, pumping his arms harder, _'Just keep moving'_ he implored himself, chest heaving, _'faster, faster! Almost there!'_ and then, with a rush, the trees enveloped him. He could feel the thin branches whipping at his body as he continued forward, the heavy breathing of Percival sounding off somewhere near to his left. There were loud shrieks, and the echoes of branches cracking under the weight of the wyverns as the creatures attempted in vain to pursue, but the sounds were growing more distant with every impact of their boots on the hard packed soil.

Both men continued to zigzag through the dense growth, and it felt like forever before Gwaine decidedly let himself slow, his body burning from exertion and tested endurance. Gasping, the knight grabbed onto the nearest tree, rough bark scraping across his stubble as he shakily leaned into it for support.

"We did it," Percival laughed out, sliding heavily to the forest floor, his back pressed against an adjacent tree.

"Please… tell me you still have what we came for," Gwaine huffed out, turning to look at the other man.

Percival simply smiles as he pants, and lifts the full satchel at his side, dangling it amusedly in front of him in response.

"Percy, I could kiss you," Gwaine grins wolfishly.

"If you don't mind, I'd settle for a tankard of mead when we get back to the inn."

"Truly a man after my own heart," Gwaine declares, eyes lighting up despite his exhaustion, "You and I, my friend, are going to get along smashingly."

Both knights laugh breathlessly and lean their heads back to rest in obvious relief. They sit there in silence for a while, letting the adrenaline pulsing through them gradually recede, each man choosing to contentedly drink in the calming air of their newfound sanctuary.


	10. Departure at Dawn

A/N: Well here we are again. This will be a more filler chapter that exists simply to move the story forward, and it doesn’t have an illustration either. This chapter was meant to be more, but one of the main scenes in it just refused to flow and be written so I deleted it and took a detour. Next Chapter will be Merlincentric hooray! I’m sure everyone is ready to see our warlock being more than a lump to lug around lol, and my illustrations will be back!

As always thank you EchoRose480 this wouldn’t be here without you. You made it better with your advices.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, Episode 5X13 never would have happened :P 

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 10 – Departure at Dawn

Merlin's brow beads with sweat and Arthur drags a saturated cloth over the damp skin once more, watching in distress as the perspiration quickly reappears. His chest aches with worry and he can feel his mouth turn down even further in concern.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs breathily, focusing on the flutter of dark lashes that stubbornly refuse to rise, "I'm sorry I've treated you so poorly, and I’m…” Arthur breaks off hesitantly, “Truth is… I’m ashamed” he confesses, swallowing down his discomfort. “I don't know why I did it, why I continue to do it. I know it's wrong, and I know it wasn't funny-not to you, and it shouldn't be for me either.”

“You’re so loyal, you’ve stayed by my side when many others would have left.” he says fondly.

“You never ask anything of me, but that doesn't mean that you aren’t in fact, deserving.”

“Lancelot was right, you do deserve my respect.” He admits, and then with a deep unwavering surety he adds. “You _have_ my respect Merlin, and you've had it for a long while now if I am to be honest."

Tears prick at the backs of his eyes, and with a shuttering breath Arthur tries to blink back the traitorous liquid that threatens to escape. With a frustrated shake of his head he manages to collect himself as best as he can.

"You are also my friend you know, despite the teasing and the bickering. I know I don't say it. I'm not good at feelings, but I just thought you should know that you _are_ important to me, to us-the knights, and Camelot. I promise when this is over I will try to be better. I know I won't always succeed, I know I will disappoint you at times, but I will make sure you never feel undervalued again."

With a sigh, Arthur looks down at the pallid face before him and swallows thickly, his eyes raking over the younger man's drawn features, "Fight, Merlin," he pleads, " _Please_ , fight."

A resounding bang startles the prince and draws his attention to the now thrown open door. He stands shakily, relief flashing through his eyes at the sight of Gwaine and Percival moving forward into the small chambers.

"Did you succeed?" he asks with poorly concealed hope.

"We're fine, thanks for asking, Princess," Gwaine grins mischievously, "Very nearly became wyvern fodder” he says, waving around his poorly bandaged hand as evidence. “but we still managed to get some of the stuff that Percy says he thinks will help."

"Thank God, where is it?"

Percival thumbs back towards the door, "We passed it off to the physician as soon as we walked in downstairs. He's gathering supplies to make the necessary potions. We did our best with what little time we had; I just hope it will be enough."

"And you did very well, sir knights," Gaylen praises as he comes bustling in, his arms burdened with books, bottles, and other various medicinal tools. "We owe you a great debt. The plants you gathered will be more than enough to treat not only your friend, but other villagers as well. Infection has been running rampant without the yarrow necessary to treat it. I now believe that some of the patients I had deemed beyond hope may yet survive their injuries, your boy included."

Taking a few sprigs and tossing them into a bowl, Gaylen quickly grabs the nearby pestle and begins grinding the plants together to make a paste, "I should have a treatment ready shortly, but it will still be a long while before we know whether or not this will be enough to help your friend. We will have to wait until he turns and hope that it will be for the better and not for the worse. Until then, I'll have Martha assist me as she is the village midwife, and very capable."

Arthur nods appreciatively "We owe you our gratitude, and I thank you for your efforts. Merlin is… he's a good man."

The physician looks up, fixing the prince with an assessing gaze. There is an awkward moment of silence before the healer seems satisfied with whatever it is he's found and nods approvingly. "I have no doubt that he is, your Majesty, no doubt at all."

Arthur swallows down another question for the man, and instead looks over at Leon, who is poised at the chamber door, "Have you gathered any more information?"

"Nothing more than what we managed to compile earlier, sire."

"Very well," Arthur begins as he walks across the room, possessing a now steely look of determination, "We have been given detailed directions to the whereabouts of the cave where the beasts are believed to be dwelling. We don’t know how many creatures there are, only that there has been no more than 3 seen together at once. We have battled Wyverns in the past and they are formidable, difficult to kill, but not impossible. If we are going to face these creatures tomorrow we will need to be as well rested as can be expected in this situation. I want all of you to be prepared to depart at dawn. I refuse to let these creatures take any more innocent lives. These people are under our protection, and as knights of Camelot, we will not fail them."

There is a loud chorus of agreement and Arthur smiles fondly, "Leon, make sure the others know to be ready, the rest of you get to bed."

Quietly the men start shuffling out of the door towards their rooms down the hall, and the young royal watches them go with a strong swell of pride. Arthur moves to follow, but pauses for a brief moment to glance back, his gaze lingering on his injured servant long enough to see the physician applying a healing paste to his wounds. "Take care of him," he says softly.

The older man smiles at him earnestly, "With all the powers I possess, sire.”

Arthur furrows his brow inquisitively, but is nevertheless satisfied with the answer, and with an abrupt turn, he vanishes around the corner, the door shutting closed behind him.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

When dawn arrives, the knights depart on horseback, one man shy. Lancelot steals a glance behind him at the disappearing village, and toward the inn where his friend lies recovering, and silently swears that he will watch over the prince in his stead.


	11. A Meeting Foretold

A/N: Here it is, the long awaited Merlincentric Chapter :D

As always thank you EchoRose480 this wouldn’t be here without you. You made it better with your advices.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, Episode 5X13 never would have happened: P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 11 - A Meeting Foretold

Gaylen watches with a growing sense of relief as Camelot's knights ride away from the village. When the men have finally disappeared from sight, the physician turns away from his position at the window and crosses the room in a flurry of robes and anticipation, "It is time," he murmurs, retrieving a small chest from the table, carrying it over towards the prone figure resting on the bed.

Quietly, he perches himself on the edge of the quaint mattress, his slender fingers carefully reaching inside the box to pull out a black polished stone. Holding the object almost reverently, he moves it forward and places it on the fevered skin above Merlin's heart.

"Emrys you must awaken," he says earnestly, repeating the movement several times until there is an identical stone within each of the boy's palms and one upon his brow.

Gaylen inhales deeply, in a vain attempt to try and quell his nervousness as he prepares to complete the ritual he had been training to master since he was a small child. He allows his hands to reach up and gently cup the sides of the younger man's face, both palms trembling lightly as they come into contact with the pallid skin that is stretched over sharp cheek bones. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and persuades his entire being to focus on the task at hand. He clears his mind, opens his thin lips and begins to chant deeply,

"Bancofa séocen lete se stánas ofásíeðe ond hælan," feeling a slight stir in the stillness around him and from within him, he repeats himself again, "Bancofa séocen lete se stánas ofásíeðe ond hælan."

With a flash of gold from within his sienna eyes, the room is enveloped in a rush of warmth. Gaylen watches on baited breath as the infected wounds that lay scattered upon the pale chest before him began to transform. The sickening discharge that had previously been leaking from the inflamed gashes begins to dry up, and the angry red of the wounds regresses. Scabs form as the skin partially heals, and the once pale and fevered body cools beneath his very hands.

The older man lets out a relieved exclamation, overwhelmed with his success.

"Emrys!" he calls, tapping the younger man's face gently. He lets his eyes flit over the features before him, searching intently for any sign of stirring. He is quickly rewarded with the rapid fluttering of dark lashes that lay against cheeks which are now flushed healthy with reviving life, "Emrys!" he beckons again urgently, his summons answered this time by a deep groan and subtle twitch.

After a few passing moments, the physician is bestowed his first glimpse into the two blue eyes that had previously remained hidden. They blink rapidly, full awareness having not yet taken its hold, and the sporadic movements are soon followed by a drawn out moan. Gaylen smiles reassuringly and leans back, giving the man before him some space, allowing him the room he will probably need to gather his bearings.

The younger man is understandably disoriented, his eyes opening wider in confusion as he gazes up at the unknown man beside him. He then glances around at the unfamiliar room and instantly his features flicker from bewildered to wary, and then back again.

"It is good to see you awake, my lord Emrys," Gaylen speaks ardently, and the other man's reaction is instantaneous and alarming.

With unexpected speed, Merlin flips sideways off the bed with a hoarse cry of pain, eyes blown wide with alarm and trepidation. He scrambles desperately to put some sort of distance between the strange man and himself, "W...who..." he rasps, his voice breaking off as the dryness in his throat sends him into an unpleasant fit of heaving coughs.

"Do not be frightened of me," Gaylen says gently, slowly rising to his feet with both hands held before him in a pacifying gesture, "I am a physician. You were injured and your prince brought you here."

Gaylen reaches for a small cup on the table near him and brings it forward, keeping the bed between them in hopes that it will keep his distressed patient calm, "Drink some water, dear boy. It has been days since you have last spoken."

Still guarded, but slightly appeased by the mention of Arthur, the younger man hesitantly takes the small offering in his pale hands and brings it slowly to his lips. An awkward quiet fills the room as Gaylen patiently waits for the dark-haired man to sooth his throat.

When the cup runs empty, it is placed gently on a nearby table, both men continuing to eye each other with deliberation.

"Y…you called me Emrys," Merlin states hoarsely, breaking the silence.

"Indeed I did, milord. You are well known among my people."

"You're a druid?"

"I am," Gaylen confirms, "My name is Gaylen Abriathon. I have lived here in Welshire for many a year, awaiting this very moment in time."

"Welshire?" Merlin blurts in obvious confusion, "And what do you mean by _this_ moment?"

"You are in the village of Welshire. I was told by your companions that you were too injured to survive the return journey to Camelot, so you were brought here, so that I may help you."

"Our meeting was foretold many years ago when I was but a child and you had yet to enter this world. Our clan's seer told me that the Emrys of Prophesy was soon to come, and that I would one day be needed by him. She gifted me with four healing stones and told me to train in the medicinal arts, and that when I came of age, I was to travel west to this very village and settle. I did so and I have awaited your arrival ever since."

Blue eyes gaze upon him with deepening interest, the need to understand evident within every crease marring his brow. Merlin's stare is calculating and penetrating all at once and he opens his mouth in an effort to respond, "Why?" he asks softly, " _Why_ would you let your life be dictated to you like this?"

Gaylen smiles knowingly, "I could ask you the same."

"That's different," Merlin asserts with a deepening frown.

"Is it?" the older man counters, "You were destined to protect and serve the Once and Future King, to bring about Albion and lasting peace. It was my own destiny to be here and give you aid so that you may continue on as you were meant to. We all are destined for something, just not always something as prodigious as the likes of yours."

Merlin feels a blush rise to the tips of his ears at the obvious adoration in the man's tone, "I'm just a man…a servant."

"You are anything but," the older man smiles fondly, before reaching down to pick up a bowl of healing paste along with a small vial from the bedside table, "If you don't mind, milord, I would request that you allow me to treat and wrap your wounds. The healing stones purged the infection from your system, cleared your fever, and allowed the wounds to partially close. I do not wield the power to heal you completely, nor do I perceive that such a miraculous recovery will go unnoticed by your companions, but you _will_ heal. Death no longer knocks upon your door and so I have accomplished the task I was born to achieve."

"It's enough, and I thank you," Merlin says gratefully, walking quietly around the bed in order to finally stand before the older man. Carefully he moves to sit on the low mattress, clinching his eyes with a wince, the fingers of his left hand curling protectively into his side as the wounds protest briefly. When he opens his eyes once more, there is a small vial being proffered directly in front of him.

"Take this," Gaylen offered, "Your recovery is still far from complete. I have no doubt that you are in pain, for your pinched brow betrays you."

Merlin accepts the potion gratefully and knocks it back without hesitation. He waits for the sudden horrifying aftertaste he has come to expect, but frowns, looking curiously at the empty glass when it fails to come, "What was that?"

"A tincture of willow bark and yarrow, with a touch of hem bane."

Merlin's eyes widen and then they twinkle with momentary mirth, "I wish you'd teach Gaius how to prepare this, most of his potions leave one to wonder which is worse, the ailment or the taste of the treatment."

A smile is shared between both men and Gaylen chuckles softly as he positions himself in front of the warlock. The older man goes about carefully applying a generous layer of paste to the exposed wounds on Merlin's torso before gathering a few linen strips and beginning the time consuming process of binding the injuries.

When the final knot is tied sometime later, the physician leans back and appraises his handiwork, "That should do for now," he announces in apparent satisfaction.

Merlin nods in agreement, "Thank you."

"Of course, milord."

"Please call me Merlin. I’m no lord, and Emrys is not a name I am known by outside your people. I'm afraid my friends wouldn't understand.”

"I will do as you ask, but you haven't a thing to fear, for it will be time yet until your friends return."

Merlin looks up in bewilderment, eyes widening as if it was finally registering that he had not seen or heard from Arthur or any of the knights since his return to consciousness. Nervousness begins to pool in his stomach as he realizes the implications, "Return?" he questions, "Where would they have gone?"

"It was my understanding that the king had sent you on a quest to defeat the creatures that are terrorizing the northern villages."

"Yes. We were riding towards Grensweld," Merlin acknowledges with growing dread, "You're not telling me they left me here and continued on to Grensweld, are you?"

"No, they needn't go as far as that. We ourselves have been plagued by the attacking beasts for weeks. We have lost many good people, and others have fled in fear. Prince Arthur and his Knights departed for the hills not long ago in an organized effort to defeat the creatures."

"No!" Merlin cries out, stumbling to his feet, "They can't!" he hisses, "I'm not there!"

The warlock spins around, eyes scanning the room for something, before zeroing in on a dark blue tunic resting over a nearby chair. Diving for it, Merlin barely registers that it is one of Arthur's spares before it is over his head in a flurry of painful movements.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gaylen scolds, trying to chase after the boy as he goes to retrieve his boots that have been placed near the hearth to dry.

"I have to go after them," is the warlock's only reply, as he pulls the worn leather over his heels.

"You can't be serious," Gaylen scoffs, "You're in no condition to follow."

"You don't understand."

"What I understand is that you have _just_ regained consciousness after _days_ of burning with fever while infection ravaged your body. You _need_ to rest, you _need_ to heal!" he insists.

Merlin looks down at the hand that is now clutching tightly to his forearm before glancing up to lock eyes with the man towering over him.

"You said you knew my destiny was to protect the once and future king," he pauses, letting the words sink in, "Then you _know_ why I must go. Without Arthur, there is no Albion, and without me there, he is vulnerable. They cannot fight creatures of magic with swords alone-you _know_ this."

The druid accedes reluctantly, and his grip loosens before dropping away completely, "Then you must hurry, Merlin."

Merlin smiles thankfully (gratefully) and steps away from the older man, "Which way did they go?"

"Towards the hills north of the village, there is a cave there that is believed to be where the creatures reside. The knights are riding for it as we speak, but you can follow. Use your magic as a guide. It will not lead you astray."

The warlock retreats towards the door as fast as his wounded body will allow.

"Merlin," Gaylen calls, just as the younger man reaches for the handle, and suddenly he is pinned with an inquiring gaze.

"Your horse is still housed in the inn's stables. You will need it if you are planning to travel swiftly."

Merlin nods gratefully and disappears though the door. The younger man is hastily making his way down the hall when Gaylen's deep calming voice echoes throughout the confines of his mind, _'Take care, young Emrys. I shall await your return.'_

_'Thank you, my friend. I will.'_

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Spell: bancofa séocen lete se stánas ofásíeðe ond hælan – body troubled by sickness let the stones purge and heal.

A/N – Hooray, Merlin is on his way!


	12. The Nesting Cave

A/N: Sorry I’m soooooo late, RL happened combined with deciding on the last read through that I absolutely hated this chapter :P I hadn’t read it in almost a year, and when I originally wrote it I had lost all motivation for this story. I had been struggling at the time to get anything on paper, and now when I got this back from my beta and was about to post it I did a quick check of it and cringed. I considered scrapping the whole chapter and instead post chapter 13 in its place, but I know that I needed a few things from this one, and so couldn’t do it. I reworked it, a lot actually, but I still don’t think I managed to get it to flow. I ended up deleting the first 700 words altogether lol! It reads kinda forced, and I’m not happy with it, but oh well. I’ll post chapter 13 fairly quickly to make up for the delay :P I think ya’ll will like that one much better :D

Due to all my last minute changes, all the mistakes are mine lol, I wanted to get this up fast, so it was never rebetaed by my wonderful beta EchoRose480 :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, Episode 5X13 never would have happened :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 12 - The Nesting Cave

Arthur watches with a hyper sense of awareness as the scenery passes him by, he can hear the rhythmic beating of his heart against his chest, and the controlled inhalations of his knights behind him. They had left the horses tethered amongst the denser brush beyond the ridge, choosing to make their final approach quietly on foot.

The men are crouched low in an attempt to remain hidden as the group makes their move towards the mouth of the cave. It’s now clearly visible from their position, a dark, eerie hole amidst the brightness of day.

With calculating eyes, the prince lets his vision sweep over the surrounding area, surveying the landscape, allowing his mind to absorb anything potentially useful. When his gaze settles upon a large mound of loose stone and debris precariously resting above the caves opening, a plan rapidly begins to form in his mind.

All the men are waiting patiently for further instruction, each knight looking at him in silent anticipation. Arthur signals for them to pay close attention and then uses his index finger to indicate the stack of boulders. “If we can dislodge those rocks, it will create a landside large enough to trap any beasts that are still inside.”

“There's no easy access point,” Leon observes.

“No,” Arthur agrees. “But it’s an opportunity to forego possible casualties, and we should attempt it none the less. It will take one of us to climb up and reach the ledge so that the rocks can be let down. Percival,” he calls, flicking his eyes towards his biggest knight, “Do you think you can do it?”

Percival grins smugly, his eyes twinkling, “I won’t let you down sire.”

They move quickly after that, and soon Percival is removing excess armor in preparation for his ascent. The large knight is almost ready when Leon hisses “Get down!” and everyone drops, trying to get as low to the ground as possible.

A piercing screech announces two wyverns as they arrive in a flurry of leather and teeth, snapping at each other as they fight over a bloodied animal carcass.

The knights grow still, their breaths almost painfully restrained, as the try to remain undetected.

One of the creatures hisses greedily, and drags its larger portion off into the darkened crevice, the other however, seems content to simply settle down and gnaw on the jagged bone that has dislodged from its own meal.

The men watch with disgusted fascination, as the wyvern proceeds to decimate the remains. The beast seems so intent on devouring its meal, that it’s truly unexpected when suddenly it shifts and releases a deep rumbling growl. The knight’s tense in response, each man trying to sink lower onto the ground, watching carefully as it jerks its head up to look about the clearing with a predatory gleam. The creature cocks its head to the side, raises his snout and sniffs the air curiously. With growing agitation, it swishes its tail and narrows its eyes, abandoning the carcass in order to take a few cautious steps towards the hidden men.

For an excruciating moment, the knights are almost positive that they’ve been discovered, that the beast has them in its eerie sights. Then, without warning, another wyvern gives a shrill cry and lands nearby, a deer, still in the throes of death, clutched within its razor like claws.

With an eager squawk, the creature that had been stalking in their direction turns from them and charges at the new arrival in an attempt to steal a portion of the larger kill for itself. The other wyvern, being greedy with its hard-earned meal, snaps its teeth and starts to drag the carcass towards the confines of the cave, the action gaining shrieks of protest from the other beast as it quickly pursues. Both predators begin a round of harsh bickering, continuing to do so even as the darkness of the cave envelopes them.

There is a collective sigh of relief as the knights allow themselves a moment to rest their fraying nerves.

"That was close." Gwaine mutters and Percival snorts his agreement.

Arthur motions to continue on with the plan, more confident now than ever, knowing that there are at least three of the creatures inside the cavern to trap.

Slowly, the men creep through the foliage and cautiously come alongside the surface of the rise. Percival crouches down and digs his fingers into the earth; retrieving a handful of dirt, he brings it up to rub across his palms in an attempt to remove any excess moisture there. When the remaining bits are dusted off on his trousers, He steps forward towards the rock face, ready to reach up and grasp onto his first set of holds. A hand on his bicep makes him pause momentarily, and he turns to see the prince looking at him intently,

"Be careful,” Arthur says with a firm pat to the man's broad shoulder. “Take the time that’s needed, and good luck."

Percival nods in acknowledgement and flashes him a confident smile, "Thank you sire, I will."

Moments later the large man's feet are off the ground, and he’s pulling himself up the steep surface.

A soft prayer for success passes repetitively through Arthur's mind, before he returns his attention to the remaining knights, "We’ll remain here in our current position,” He announces. “Everyone is to maintain diligent eye contact with the sky, as well as the cave. Don’t let your guard down, and refrain from engaging the creatures unless absolutely necessary."

With a round of acknowledging nods and silent gestures of understanding, the men quickly bunker down and prepare to lay in wait.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Gwaine watches as Percival shifts his hold on the rough stones and heaves himself up at an odd angle, and the knight can't help but feel a bit of awe at the display of strength. He leans over and jabs his elbow into Lancelot's ribs, "I have to say, I'm impressed," he whispers conspiratorially, waving his hand up towards the climbing knight, "Never would have guessed that our Percy could be so flexible."

Lancelot responds with an indulgent grin and shakes his head, while a few others who have overheard the comment snort and snicker. Lorvel however, refuses to participate, and chooses to maintain his expression of irritated disdain. The group composes themselves quickly, trying hard to preserve silence as they impatiently wait for Percival to reach the ledge. A few hitched breaths are exchanged as the large knight's footing slips, and everyone pauses in trepidation as he fights to recover his balance. The small fumble dislodges bits of dirt and loose stone that noisily make their way downwards, and all eyes dart warily to the mouth of the cave. After a moment of hesitation, muscles tensing in preparation for expected repercussions, Percy pushes up and carries on.

Percival is almost within reach of his destination when a piercing screech echoes around them. All eyes snap to the sky in an attempt to locate the beast that is emitting the haunting noise.

"There!" Elyan hisses, shifting to point sharply towards the sky behind them where a wyvern is fast approaching from the south. The creature's leathery wings beat in a solid, rapid rhythm, bringing it steadily closer to their location.

"Ready yourselves!" Arthur commands in a hushed tone, swiftly pulling his sword from its scabbard- an action quickly mirrored by the rest of his men.

Everyone waits, hearts pounding painfully from within the confines of their chests as they watch the advancing beast apprehensively. Arthur prays for the creature to be blind to Percival movements who at the moment has ceased his climb and is trying to press himself as close to the rock surface as possible.

A few seconds pass before an angry roar erupts from the beast's maw, and even from the distance the prince can see that its eyes are already locked onto the form of his biggest knight,

"Damn it!" he curses, feeling powerless as the wyvern pulls its wings in and angles its body into a swift dive.

Before anyone can protest, Arthur sprints from his hiding place determined to divert the creature’s attention. He can only hope that his sudden appearance will save Percival who, in his precarious position, is unable to defend himself.

A deep guttural noise resonates to his left, and the blonde snaps his eyes towards the entrance where a scaly figure slowly emerges. Movements caught in his peripherals tell him that his men are already situating themselves defensively around him, readying for the inevitable battle to come.

Arthur swallows and tries desperately to slow his adrenaline fed heart. He clenches his fingers tighter around the hilt of his sword, knuckles whitening as he unconsciously slides his feet into a readied stance. The sounds around him begin to fade, and all of his concentration tunnels, focusing fully on the immediate threat before him.

Suddenly, there's a flash of bared teeth and extended claws as the creature charges forward, its ominous cry merging into three as two more creatures materialize from the darkened depths.

Arthur instinctively lifts his sword to fend off the oncoming attack and he curses loudly, an action that, though lost to his own ears, is readily copied by the rest of his men.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: Lol, I made that illustration over a year ago :P I can hardly believe that I’ve been working on this for nearly 3 years!!!!

Next chapter is the one that I believe you have all  been waiting for :D Soooo excited to post that one!


	13. Racing towards Destiny

A/N: And here it is, a Merlin rocks chapter :D

Thank you EchoRose480 for getting these out for me so fast, and for giving me such amazing advice. Best beta ever! :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, well there is really too much to list that falls under that ‘if’ category :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13 - Racing towards Destiny

Merlin crept urgently forward on foot, having left his mare tied to a tree a safe distance away. Sweat beading his brow, while one hand clutched, white knuckled, to his injured side. God, it hurt. It was throbbing painfully in an unrelenting rhythm, despite the partial healing and tonics Gaylen had provided. Gritting his teeth, he continues forward, ignoring the metallic taste that trickles across his tongue as his molars catch the inside of his cheek unforgivingly.

He knows he was getting close, and as if to prove him right, the silence around him shatters with a piercing animalistic cry and the all too familiar sounds of battle follow soon after.

Merlin forces himself to pick up his pace, moving his feet faster towards the echoing sounds of swords against hides, shouts against feral hisses and shrieks. Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to panic, his heart beating faster with the fear that coursed through it. In a haze he pushes forward, chest constricting, terrified of discovering that he had indeed arrived too late, that he had come only to watch the knights of Camelot fall.

 _'Please don't let me be too late, please don't let me be too late!'_ was his internal mantra as he continued to stumble toward the raging battle.

The first sight that assaulted the warlock as he broke through the last bit of foliage blocking his view was Percival clinging to the rock face above the cave. The knight was trying to block attacks from a wyvern that was hovering in the air above him, sharp talons extended as it tried to dislodge the large man.

A pained cry echoed through the chaos and Merlin turns sharply, his wild eyes locking onto Sir Lorvel, who was now lying crumpled, his life's blood spilling out over his torn chainmail. Leon was instantly in front of the injured man, his sword raised in an attempt to defend his fellow knight.

Close by, Lancelot was sent crashing to the ground by a flicked tail, effectively leaving Arthur's back unprotected. The prince was already fighting his own beast, and with his rear now vulnerable, Lancelot's former opponent moved in for the kill.

"Arthur!" Merlin screamed in horror, charging forward into the midst of the battle, "behind you!"

Arthur jerks violently at the sound of Merlin's unexpected voice, and turns to look towards his servant just as the beast tackles him. The prince crashes to the ground, a heavy weight crushing his chest, forcing the air to retreat from his lungs. He tries to reach his fallen sword but is forced back by a violent tug on his gorget, hot rancid breath gusting rancidly over his neck. The wyvern to his left lunges, teeth bared just as the beast above him moves in for the kill and both predators collide violently together, each hissing in complete fury. The competitive creatures quickly try to claim ownership of the fallen prize, snapping at each other aggressively.

Merlin is crossing the clearing when he sees Arthur roll to his feet, unarmed but alive, and it's such a relief to his overtaxed system, that his vision begins to tunnel. He stumbles off balance, and spots dance in front of his eyes as pain shoots mercilessly through his torso. He gasps, only partially aware of voices shouting through his now ringing ears.

 _'Arthurs alive!'_ his mind screams, and then hands are on him. He feels himself being hefted up and dragged backwards, and he shifts in an attempt to fight back, because Arthur is the other way and he needs to get to Arthur.

When the world partially rights itself, moments later, and his vision begins clearing, he sees Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine fighting the wyverns back. For a moment he panics when he doesn't see the prince, but a quick glance at the gloved hands that hold him under the arms, and his head is tilting back to see Arthur above him, shouting orders.

He forces himself to strengthen his hold on consciousness, gathering his wits, and then urges his feet to find purchase beneath him. Taking advantage of Arthur's temporary distraction, he pulls away to stand on his own and thus returns the prince's immediate attention to his unexplainable presence.

"What the hell, Merlin!" he exclaims at the impossibility standing before him, but the younger man doesn't answer. Instead, Merlin's face morphs into horror, his eyes locking on Percival as he is knocked off his perch by one of the airborne creatures. The knights look on in shock, their horrified shouts following their comrade's descent.

Time seems to slow down as Percival falls, his face mirroring their fear as the wyvern dives, trying to snatch the knight out of the air mid-decent.

"Merlin!" Lancelot cries in an almost plea, and there is really no need, because the warlock has already moved away from the group and is opening his mouth to roar fiercely,

"S'enthend' apokhorein nun epitello-o-o!"

The wyvern shrieks in anger at the command to cease its pursuit, but pulls back, wings beating heavily as it lifts back up into the sky. Merlin shifts to Percival, outstretching his hand, fingers splayed, and incants.

"Gestillan niðerscyfe!" With a flash of gold in his irises, the bigger man halts in the air, less than a meter from the earth. Merlin lowers Percival gently, and then proceeds to move off towards the other beasts.

"Endestæf eower inwitscear!" he growls at the one Leon is fighting, and with a hiss it backs down and retreats to the edge of the clearing. The other two are working in a combined effort to overpower the others, and just as one attempts to leap onto Lancelot, Merlin roars and releases the instinctive magic that's coiling in his chest. In a rush, the power inside him unfurls and the two creatures are thrown back. The ground trembles as they land heavily, wailing in surprise and anger, but it takes little time for them to recover and charge in with a counter attack.

Merlin stares down the rampaging creatures and opens his mouth to command them as he did their companions,

"Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai!" Both beasts skid to a stop, heads bowed in forced submission, but eyes still flashing predatorily. Merlin turns in a circle, his chest heaving, sweat drenching his tunic. He scans the clearing his eyes ensuring that all the creatures have stopped their onslaught and are now crouching at safe distances away from the knights. He resists the urge to look at his friends, knowing very well that he will be confronted with horrified and shocked faces of varying degrees, especially Arthur's.

 _'Arthur knows, Arthur knows,'_ keeps repeating itself over and over in his mind as he stumbles further away from his friends. The warlock's chest lurches and his heart seems to be saying, _'Oh God, oh God!'_ with every erratic beat. Merlin inhales shakily and utters his last command,

"Ithi!" he says, his voice coming out in an unearthly rumble, "wiðertrod to eower eorðsele!"

All four of the wyvern hesitate a moment before reacting to the coercive instruction, and begin re-entering the cavern one by one. When the last beast disappears into the dark depths, Merlin lets out a shaky breath and cringes at the sound of Arthur's enraged voice behind him. Without looking at the prince, the warlock lifts his hand and focuses his magic on his final task,

"Afeallan, bewreon ge fordytte ábærst" he whispers, eyes flashing once more, and with a deafening rumble all the boulders and debris Percival was trying to reach earlier come crashing down. When the dust and rocks settle, the entrance is covered, sealing the beasts inside.

Merlin breathes. It’s over. He is exhausted, and hurting. He feels almost detached as his mind whirls with countless emotions that he can’t seem to grasp. Deep within, there is an overwhelming sense of realization ‘everyone knows’ it says, and the possible consequences of that one statement are terrifying.

He stumbles dizzily, ears ringing again, and he suddenly has no idea how he's managed to accomplish all that he has. His body is trembling when it decides to fail him, and, as he collapses, he is surprised to feel strong arms wrapping firmly around his waist. When he rolls his head up to look at his savior, he is greeted by Lancelot's calm, soothing features, and for a moment he feels safe as he's lowered to the ground.

Lancelot eyes the others calculatingly, his dark eyes sizing up each of his companions individually. Despite his calm façade, his thoughts are in turmoil as he wonders what to do if it comes down to choosing between defending his magical friend, or maintaining loyalty to the crown he swore allegiance to.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Spells and Dragon Tongue:

S'enthend' apokhorein nun epitello-o-o! - I now enjoin you to depart from this place!

Gestillan niðerscyfe - Cease descent

Endestæf eower inwitscear - End your murderous attack!

Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! - Now you must obey and you must follow!

Ithi! - Go!

Wiðertrod to eower eorðsele - Return to your cave dwelling

Afeallan, bewreon ge fordytte ábærst - Fall, cover and block escape

 

A/N: I totally don’t know old English, so I used what I could from the show, and for the rest I did what I could with an online translator :P

Anyway, That was the first part of the reveal :D I hope it lived up to your expectations *crosses fingers*


	14. Aftermath of Discovery - part 1

A/N: Part 2 of the reveal :D Hope you like it!

Thank you EchoRose480 for getting these out for me so fast, and for giving me such amazing advice. Best beta ever! :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, well there is really too much to list that falls under that ‘if’ category :P

~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14 - Aftermath of Discovery - part 1

Arthur dives forward, retrieving his sword from where it had fallen during the altercation and brings it up. He skillfully trains the weapon on the men before him, one of which has just singlehandedly turned his entire world upside down.

"What the hell!" he bellows.

Lancelot's reaction is instantaneous, and he finds himself maneuvering into a defensive crouch over his raven haired friend. He tries to be careful of Merlin's injuries as he does so, letting one arm gingerly encircle the warlock's torso, whilst his other hand instinctively tightens around the hilt of his blade. His eyes flash protectively, his heart swelling with the desire to safe-guard the warlock. He feels a pang of remorse at turning against the vows he swore for king and country, but this was something he _had_ to do, his honor and friendship demanded it. There was no man living upon the earth more worthy of protection and loyalty than Merlin, and as he cradles the man within his arms, he feels at peace, his conscience clear.

He prepares himself to move swiftly when the need inevitably arises, hoping beyond hope for some type of miracle to occur. With a heavy but determined heart, he lets his expressive eyes lock with the prince's, and that's when he sees it-the exact moment when Arthur realizes that the knight before him had obviously been aware of his servant's deception all along.

" _You knew!_ " Arthur seethes dangerously, taking a step closer, his shoulders weighed down by what appears to be another deep-rooted betrayal.

"Don't!" Merlin rasps imploringly, face contorting sorrowfully, eyes wet with unshed tears, "Don't bring him into this, Lancelot's done nothing wrong. This isn’t his fault," he pants, "It's _mine_ …It's mine and I'm sorry."

Before the prince can even open his mouth to respond, Gwaine is brushing past him, moving towards the warlock with a purposeful gait,

"Shut up, mate," he admonishes kindly, "You haven't got a thing to be sorry for. In fact," he grins, "You just saved the princess, and everyone else here, for that matter -just like you always do."

" _You!_ " Arthur draws out, appalled. He flounders a moment, obviously thrown, before his eyes are flashing with fury, and he's spinning on his heel. He eyes the rest of his men suspiciously, fixing them with an unnerving glare,

"What about the rest of you?" he rages, his free hand gesticulating wildly, "How many of you knew?!" he demands, " _Who_ else?!"

His rant is followed by deafening silence, and Arthur takes his time to thoroughly scan his remaining knights, trying to ascertain if any other traitors still reside amongst their ranks. Only after scrutinizing each man individually, does he realize that all the others are just as disconcerted as he is.

Satisfied, Arthur suppresses the sharp pain of loss in his chest, and turns towards the three men before him. Three men he had befriended and trusted. And it was then, as he looked into their faces again, that he let his eyes turn as cold and unyielding as the steel that rested within his calloused hand.

"You've _betrayed me,_ " he accuses, "You've _betrayed_ Camelot."

"You have and awful peculiar opinion on what constitutes betrayal, princess," Gwaine scoffs, "Last time I checked, we were all fighting for the same cause, one of us just happens to have a more unique approach to doing his duty."

" _Unique!_ " Arthur sputters incredulously, "You call practicing magic unique, are you insane?! Treason is what it is! It's evil!"

"You don't believe that."

"The hell I don't!" Arthur growls, moving forward.

Gwaine shifts, as if having already anticipating the prince's actions, and challengingly lifts his sword higher with a roll of his shoulders.

  

 "Move!"

"No," Gwaine responds firmly, flicking a glance at the two men in his peripheral before continuing, "I don't know about Lance here, but I'm not letting any of you near Merlin," he warns, "I've only known about his talents for a few days, but I'm smart enough to acknowledge the fact that Merlin's a good man-the best of us all, and whether or not he happens to possess magic shouldn't matter."

"What do you mean you've only known a few days?" Arthur fumes.

"It means exactly what it means," Gwaine replies, "I accidentally found out about his magic while he was mad with fever. He started muttering a bunch of gibberish while he was unconscious, and I thought for a moment our Merlin was out of his mind-delusional even." the knight chuckles, rolling his eyes heavenward in brief remembrance, "But then, out of bloody nowhere," he continues, both eyes gleaming mischievously as they lock knowingly on the prince's, "A swirling ball of blue light forms right in the palm of his hand. Now you tell me, _your majesty_ , does that sound familiar to you?"

Arthur's face is suddenly devoid of all color, his expression quickly morphing from bitter to what can only be described as stricken. It's blatantly obvious that he recognizes the description, and he's clearly not the only one who realizes what it is that Gwaine is insinuating. All the knights seem to be equally awed by the revelation.

"It can't be…he wasn't even there," the prince desperately denies, blue eyes moving to lock onto Merlin's pale form, "You were unconscious."

"It doesn't matter if the orb c…came from him or n…not!" Lorvel hisses from his place on the ground, "S…sorcery is sorcery, and the law is c…clear. The sorcerer must die!"

The wounded knight chokes down further comments as his chest constricts with a sudden bought of deep wet coughs. Even as he hacks and heaves blood onto the earth beside him, his expression remains that of churning disgust, "W…what are you waiting for?" he goads breathlessly, pointing an accusing finger at the trio, "Kill the s…sorcerer!"

"This doesn't concern you!" Gwaine barks, clearly irritated as he waves his weapon towards the injured man, "You shut up, or I'll make you!"

"Gwaine, stop…please!" Merlin begs, panting heavily as he wraps an arm protectively around his middle, "Fighting isn't going to help."

At the sound of Merlin's plea, Gwaine visibly deflates, shoulders dropping, and with a glance back, the knight frowns worriedly. His friend's brow is pinched, and the man's fingers are digging into the thin fabric at his sides,

"You alright, mate?"

"Depends on your definition of alright," Merlin huffs, his attempt at a smile failing miserably as his tight features and heavy breathing belie his pain.

Lancelot shifts the man in his arms, so as to lean him back enough for the knight to get a better look at him. What he sees has him dropping his sword and using the freed hand to touch the growing stain of crimson that is steadily spreading across Merlin's torso,

"You're bleeding," he says, alarmed.

"It's not so bad," Merlin placates, "I think I just reopened a few wounds."

Lancelot ignores the appeasements and presses his palm firmly against the hidden injuries, pulling a sharp hiss through his friend's clenched teeth in the process.

Merlin can literally feel the blood flee from his face, and knows that he must have instantaneously turned several shades whiter. His vision flickers out momentarily, and when it returns he's surprised to be looking directly into Gwaine's concerned, brown depths. The knight had somehow managed to materialize beside him during the sudden lapse in his senses.

"I'm fine," he says, trying to mollify the man.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, mate."

A snort from over the knight's shoulder reveals Arthur, who had taken the full advantage of the distraction and maneuvered himself directly behind Gwaine, his blade a finger breadths away from the knights neck,

"I wouldn't believe the liar, either," the prince derides, though his anxious tone and perturbed expression contradict the harshness of his words.

"I always wanted to tell you Arthur, I-"

"Don't call me that," the blond interjects, "You forfeited that right when you betrayed me!"

Merlin simultaneously looks both thoroughly chastised and crestfallen, before his expression is awash with poorly hidden remorse.

"How long have you been practicing magic? How long have you been lying to me?"

When Merlin squeezes his eyes closed, and his head tips down in resignation, the prince knows he's not going to like the answer.

"I was never given a choice on whether or not I practiced magic."

With a flash of disappointment, Arthur's face flushes angrily.

"Stop lying to me!" he bellows, letting a growl rumble in his throat as he pulls his sword away from Gwaine and swings it down to impale the earth beside him, "There is always a choice!" he yells, pointing a stiff finger accusingly at the warlock, feeling a moment of brief satisfaction when the younger man flinches back as if physically struck.

"Arthur!" Lancelot warns. "If you would just listen and hold your judgments long enough to let him explain, then perhaps you would come to understand what Merlin is trying to tell you."

Arthur purses his lips, eyes narrowing as he looks down at the injured servant lying against the crouching knight's chest. He remains silent and wary, not sure if he is ready to hear what the man before him has to say, but despite his reservations he complies,

"So be it-Just let it be known that I will not tolerate any more lies."

Not trusting himself to look the prince in the eye, Merlin simply nods his understanding, before allowing himself to begin.

"I never chose magic, and I can't honestly remember a time where I haven't had it," he reveals, "My mother once told me that I was levitating objects from my crib when I was only a few months old. So you see, I never really knew what it was like to be without it, because it's always been there, constantly thrumming through my veins just as assuredly as my own blood."

"You don't expect me to believe that," Arthur scoffs.

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not, it's still the truth."

Arthur simply stiffens his jaw, both eyes boring holes into the man before him.

Merlin looks at the prince sadly, and tries to suppress the weariness that is quickly creeping up on him. He knows how important this moment is, and he can't afford to let his body fail him anymore than it already has,

"These years have not been easy," he divulges. "It was not easy to hide the truth. To lie. Like I said before, I _always_ wanted to tell you, and I almost did, actually," he admits, "But events kept unfolding that seemed to only harden your heart further towards magic, and I can't blame you, especially with everything that's happened with…" Merlin hesitates nervously a moment as he steels himself to utter her name, "Morgana."

"In the years that I spent in your service I have come to think of you as a friend, my closest if I'm going to be honest. Even if I was never truly able to share this one integral truth, I lied about nothing else."

"I just wanted to protect you, and if you believe nothing else, sire, I need you to believe that one thing of me," with a shuddering breath, Merlin tilts his head back against Lancelot's chest, his eyes closing tightly in a futile attempt to keep his emotions at bay. Despite his best efforts, the tears that he's been stubbornly denying break free and begin to fall.

Arthur attempts to keep is expression indifferent as he watches the warlock, but he's failing miserably, and he knows it. His eyes are betraying him, both pools filled with raw, unbridled emotion. He feels defeated, but he can sense the delicate blossoming of hope growing within him. He longs to find truth in Merlin's words. But fear, and memories of past betrayals still cling to him, whispering cruelly in his ears.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" he asks daringly, the underlying tremor in his voice exposing his latent insecurity.

"You don't," Merlin confesses, breath hitching apprehensively at the admission.

"You're right, I don't. I can't know if you're telling the truth. I have no possible way of knowing if I ever even knew you at all."

Merlin curses his own weakness as more tears cascade down his face, but he can offer no further defense, and there is no oath he can swear. He simply bows his head in resigned acceptance, and waits, feeling his heart fracturing a little more as he realizes the magnitude of what he's most likely lost…his friends, his life, his…destiny.

Taking the man's sudden withdrawal as his answer, Arthur does the only thing he can. He presses forward,

"I take it by your silence that you're not enough of an idiot to believe that there is anything you could possibly say that would make me believe a word that comes out of _your_ mouth,"

"Right now I can only trust in my own convictions. I mean... _years_ Merlin," he whispers, like the enormity of that one enunciated word was unfathomable, "Years of daily interactions filled with bickering and teasing, of countless conversations and adventures. We've encountered so many trials and perils and yet we've always overcome them."

Arthur sighs, letting his head tip back, eyes looking up at the sky searchingly as if the clouds above him could possibly hold all the answers he seeks. A few beats later, when he returns his gaze to the man before him, it's like he's rediscovered a puzzle he'd found years before, a puzzle that is Merlin, and only now has come to realize that, despite all its complexities, he's finally on the cusp of solving it.

"You know, during many of those situations I have always felt like there was something or someone watching out for me. Despite my suspicions, I never wanted to think too much on it, never wanted to question the luck that seemed to surround me, and now," he says, eyes shining with recognition, "It's so obvious."

"God, I've been so blind- _so stupid_ ," he declares, and then he laughs and it's a surreal sound filled with a myriad of emotions, edged in awe, "It was you," he whispers, as if truly seeing, for the first time, "It's always been you. You're the one person that fits into every equation, the only constant through every discrepancy."

Merlin, who had given up trying to read Arthur's rapidly changing expressions, could think of little else to say in response to the prince's speech other than an ingenuous, "I'm sorry."

"I know," Arthur concedes softly.

"I need you to understand that I'm angry, that I feel betrayed and cheated. It pains me to know that you never held the same trust in me, that I held in you. And, if I'm to be honest, I don't really know how to reconcile my feelings right now. I need time to think," he admits, clearly overwhelmed as he turns his head to solicit another's assurance and council, "Leon," he calls, "We've grown up together. You've been by my side longer than anyone."

"Yes, sire."

"What would you do if placed in my stead?"

"It is not my judgment that matters, but your own. I would suspect sire, that when it comes down to what is needed to be done, that you already know the answer," Leon answers diplomatically, giving his prince a dutiful nod, "I also believe I speak for all of us here when I say that we will gladly follow whatever decision you deem right."

Arthur gives his oldest knight a tight smile in return, "Then I hope you will still remain so emulating when I reveal my decision," looking back to the slight form of his servant, the prince forces himself to lock eyes with the younger man, "One thing I can say without deliberation is that I don't have it in me to perceive you as the evil threat I was raised to believe in."

"Though there is still so much that we need to discuss. For now," the prince announces, looking back at his men, "I request of you to keep your silence. To swear ignorance of these events that will hold no place in our following reports."

There's a sudden barrage of relieved expressions that descend quickly over the group, and one glance at Gwaine shows him roguishly beaming.

Leon smiles proudly, and places a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "It is decisions like this that make me honored to serve you, sire."

Arthur nods, looking around at the men surrounding him, finding that their expressions seemed to mirror the same mix of satisfaction and admiration that Leon's held. It was then, that he couldn't help but feel the confidence in his decision steeling, despite the enormity and weight of it.

_He was right, this was right._

~~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: Alright, no one needs to point out to me that the illustration has a huge flaw in it lol! Yes, Merlin’s jacket magically manifests in it, even though it was previously decimated :D This was actually the 4th image I made for this fic and I wasn’t paying attention, and got carried away drawing the guys. By the time I realized my mistake of leaving his wardrobe intact, it was too hard to edit it :P – translation, I was lazy. Anyway, despite the inconsistency, this was still one of my favorite illustrations for this story.

Also, don’t think I that I have forgotten about our despicable Sir Lorvel, he’s coming up next chappie :P

I hope the second part of this continuing reveal was pleasing to all of you. Reveals have been done so much, it’s beginning to get hard to be original in theme, reaction, and dialogue, but I don’t care because reveals rock!  :D


	15. The Aftermath of Discovery - part 2

A/N: Part 3 of the reveal :D Hope you like it! No illustration this chapter though :O

Thank you EchoRose480 for getting these out for me so fast, and for giving me such amazing advice. Best beta ever! :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, well there is really too much to list that falls under that ‘if’ category :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 15 - Aftermath of Discovery - part 2

"You can't be s…serious!" Lorvel sputters dubiously, breaking the moment as he struggles to gather the strength to rise to his feet. The knight manages to stand, albeit barely, and prepares to express his contempt, "If you c…cowards won't do what needs to be done, t…than I will!" he pants, leaning on his sword. Without further warning, he shouts and weakly charges at Merlin, his weapon lifted in fury.

Arthur moves forward swiftly and intercepts the flailing man, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back, "Stand down, Sir Lorvel!"

"Never!" the man growls.

"That is a command from your prince!"

"I serve the king!"

"I _am_ your future king!"

" _Exactly_ , _future_ , as it stands your f…father _is_ king and _his_ word _is_ law, and Uther's law demands that the t…traitor's life is f…forfeit."

Lorvel pulls away, but Arthur's grip on his arm remains firm, "L…let me go!" he demands, panting heavily.

"I said stand down!" Arthur bellows, his features thunderous as he pushes the persistent man back.

Lorvel moves to retaliate, his sword swinging forward only to be blocked and disarmed quickly by Sir Leon. Lorvel stumbles back, chest heaving, a look of pure disdain marring his features, 

"You're all traitors!" he hisses, hand clutching his abdomen as he drops to his knees, "Traitors and f…fools the lot of you!"

"Percival, see to Sir Lorvel's injury."

Percival nods and moves forward to assist the man.

"Don't t…touch me!" the knight cries.

The bigger man ignores Lorvel’s demands and man-handles him onto the ground, pulling the knights bloodied hand away from his wound, moving the chainmail aside to reveal the hidden damage.

Arthur doesn't have to ask to know that the injury was a bad one. The flash of horror that passes briefly across the large knight's features tells him all that is needed to be said.

Percival looks up and, with a look that speaks of both pity and regret, he shakes his head. And with that simple gesture, everyone in the clearing knows the wound was mortal. The knight had been gutted, and there was no amount of aid that they could provide that would change the inevitable.

"I can try to help him."

Arthur looks up sharply, eyes landing on Merlin whose expression is a strange mixture of weary and hopeful, "I can't guarantee it will work,” he says breathily, “but I can try a healing spell, if you'd let me."

" _No!_ " Lorvel shouts, panting abhorrently, "I'd rather die than let that filthy s…sorcerer touch me with his accursed m…magic!" he spits, blood painting his sneering lips.

Merlin flinches, looking almost physically ill. The fierce rejection is cutting, despite the man it originated from.

"See reason," Arthur argues, "He saved us all, and he can still save you. Let him try."

"Uther would be ashamed to hear such b…blasphemous talk!" Lorvel hisses, "I m…may not live long enough reveal this act of treason to the k…king, but I will die with m…my honor intact.” He breathily declares, the rise and fall of his chest becoming more labored. “I have kept my v…vows!" he swears.

"Relax. Steady your breathing." Percival admonishes gently. Lorvel huffs and tilts his head back muttering,

"You bloody fool, y…you're all…" with a cough, he chokes and his eyes widen, bloodied hand going up to grasp the front of Percival's shirt, the bigger man still pressing down on the gaping wound, "…F…fools." he breathes out, eyes turning glassy and hollow as his chest falls, and fails rise again. Lorvel’s stained hand releases, dropping limply to the side, and with a solemn expression, Percy wipes his bloodied palm across his breaches before lifting his fingertips to respectfully pull the older man's eyelids closed.

A tumultuous cloud of mixed feelings quickly falls over the group, and no one braves a word to break the fallen silence.

Though Sir Lorvel had not been one of the knights that Arthur considered himself close to, the prince still feels the pang of loss and guilt that always accompanies the deaths of his men. He had been thirteen the first time he'd experienced such a feeling, having watched as Sir Braedor succumbed to the injuries he sustained in a skirmish on the prince's first patrol. Since then, Arthur had unfortunately been forced to grow accustomed to the feeling, though no matter how many times he experienced them, the ache never eased. Sir Braedor had been but the first, and Arthur knew that Sir Lorvel would be far from the last. It did not help that the man's last words had stung, and had left the young royal mentally conflicted.

The prince takes a deep, composing breath, and then tears his eyes away from the body, deciding to, instead, focus on the living,

"Leon," he calls.

"Yes, sire."

"Assist Percival and Elyan in giving Sir Lorvel a proper burial."

"Of course, sire, I'd be honored," Leon acknowledges dutifully, moving towards where the other two knights are already wrapping their deceased comrade in the red cloak that, in life, had symbolized his loyalty to Camelot.

Swallowing the lump that is swelling in his throat, Arthur gathers the courage to shift his gaze to Merlin, who is now hidden by Lancelot and Gwaine's hovering forms. Despite his discomfort, he wills his legs to carry him forward, stopping only when he is close enough to see his manservant from over his knight's shoulder. It comes as a surprise to find the younger man limp, eyes closed, his features deceptively smooth when considering how heavily creased in obvious suffering they had been only moments prior.

"How is he?" he asks, alerting the two men to his presence.

"He just lost consciousness," Lancelot replies, his arms shifting as he maneuvers the smaller man the rest of the way to the ground, "He was showing signs of pain, but his pulse is strong. I believe he is simply exhausted," he reassures, taking the hem of the warlock's tunic and lifting it up to assess the man's wounds, "Merlin's been through quite an ordeal, I'm surprised that he lasted as long as he did. To be honest, I don't know how he managed to follow us, let alone do what he did."

Arthur hesitantly kneels down, and though he is still at a loss as to what he should be feeling, he allows himself to be content in letting concern dictate his actions for now. He watches as the soiled bandages are pulled aside and the damaged tissue beneath is revealed.

A sudden inhalation of breath beside him shows that he is not the only one surprised at what they are seeing. The injuries, though still horrific, and undoubtedly painful, are no longer ravaged by infection. Except for a few of the newly reopened and freely bleeding wounds, the rest of the numerous punctures and tears are scabbed over in what appears to be an unbelievable stage of healing.

"How is that possible?" Gwaine says, awestruck.

"Magic," Arthur answers needlessly, because it is blatantly obvious that sorcery is the only explanation as to why the man before them could have managed his daring rescue. Even then, it would have still been a feat, the damage is still great, and anyone with eyes to see would know that the wounds would have incapacitated most for an indefinite amount of time.

Lancelot nods in agreement, "I assume that whatever strength he had gained from the magic, has fled along with the adrenaline that was undoubtedly feeding his energy. It would seem that he was waiting for some form of acceptance before letting himself succumb to the exhaustion."

"If that's the case, I doubt he'll awaken anytime soon," Gwaine says.

Arthur snorts, before responding, "He _would_ make us lug him all the way back to Welshire, the lazy sod," and, despite his best efforts, he is unable to keep the fondness from his tone.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: OK, so Sir Lorvel received his comeuppance. He was Uther’s man through and through, but you have to give him credit for holding firmly to his ideals even in the face of death, no matter how backwards those beliefs were. I think even Uther would have resorted to the use of magic to save himself, because he was shone as a hypocrite in the show, using magic for his own gain. I think this makes Lorvel a better man than him, even if they shared the same twisted views.   

Now, there are only 2 chapters left for this story, I had written them both a few weeks back really quick one night and then got busy, so it wasn’t until read them through later, that I realized they both sucked and didn’t flow *wails*:P It’s so hard to write well when you have lost inspiration for a story. Anyway, I’m trying to wrap this up, those two chapters just really really hate me lol! :P It feels like pulling teeth to get them finished, so just a warning, there may be a delay in my next posting. The weekend is coming though so hopefully I can hide from my kids long enough to find a quiet moment to get these done :D Wish me luck!


	16. Revealing Prophecies

A/N: I struggled to find a way to end this story. After finally working through the reveal which had me blocked for almost a year, I had no idea how to wrap things up. I never plotted out the ending :P

I apologize for the extra delay, RL decided to pester both me and my wonderful beta, I spent the last 2 weeks juggling 2 sick kids that only wanted Mama and lots of cuddles, my poor babies were just so miserable. One would get better, only to have the other one sick hours later, and vice versa. I think they both had every cold, fever, and stomach bug that is floating around this time of year! I can’t believe how may separate things I had to treat, and they just kept passing things on to each other. Thankfully, I have managed to avoid the germ pool myself, but my daughter now appears to have woken up with her cousin’s cold Ghah!!!

Sorry for any mistakes in this chapter, I take full responsibility for all of them sense I was still a little displeased with some bits even after it arrived back from EchoRose yesterday. She had some wonderful pointers, and so I reworked a few of the paragraphs etc... I would have had it looked at again, but I figured you all might mutiny :P I have to say though, that I’ve read this so many times that the words are literally merging together, and I am now officially incapable of looking it over anymore. If I do, I’m liable to jam an icepick in my eye…not pretty, but yeah, you get the point :P

Anyway, thank you, EchoRose480 for all your time and help. You’ve been an amazing beta :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, I wouldn’t have destroyed half the rain forest via used tissue over 5X13 :P

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

Chapter 16 - Revealing Prophecies

Gaylen shuffles about, deftly treating Merlin's wounds for the second time since their meeting the day before. Everyone is relieved when the blood staining Merlin's tunic is proven to be the result of a few broken stitches, and that regardless of the day's adventure, there are no new wounds decorating their friends already abused body. Despite several of Camelot’s knights being underfoot, it doesn't take the healer long to re-stich and wrap the injuries, and soon, he is sliding a loose tunic down over the newly applied bandages. With a quick assessment of his work, Gaylen deems his task complete, and with a satisfied air, the man quietly leans forward, reaching for the thin blanket resting at the foot of the bed.

At first Arthur thinks it’s a trick, a play of light created by flickering candles within a dimly lit room, but on further inspection he catches sight of a distinct mark on the healer’s skin for a second time that evening, and he knows now that it isn’t merely a shadow. Curiosity fully peeked, the young royal takes advantage, and as soon as Gaylen leans forward, his robe sliding back to reveal the inked skin beneath, Arthur lunges. The prince’s calloused fingers wrap tightly around the physicians exposed wrist, his eyes immediately seeking out the blemish that mars the otherwise unremarkable appendage.

Despite the healer's obvious confusion, he doesn't struggle, letting himself remain compliant as he's pulled forwards sharply, submitting himself to the prince's unwavering scrutiny.

Arthur can tell that his actions have startled not only the physician, but his knights as well, all of whom are now looking at him questioningly. The prince suppresses the urge to explain himself, choosing instead to fixate on the black symbol inked into the underside of Gaylen's wrist,

"This is a druidic symbol," Arthur declares, using his free hand to tug at the sleeve in order to fully expose the tattoo's intricate design, "You're a druid," he states. There is no need for the older man to neither confirm nor deny the allegation, because the answer is already there, etched in woven curves across his skin.

Gaylen, in spite of the growing tension, finds it within himself to smile disarmingly,

"Indeed, young prince, I am.” He acknowledges. “This marking is that of the earth healer; to my people it means healing and wisdom."

Looking somewhat disconcerted in his still obvious surprise, Arthur finds himself loosening his grip on the physician's arm until his hand falls away completely. He stands there and stares at the man, his mind racing to piece together obvious facts until it's as if a puzzle has finally come together. Suddenly, everything is clear, and his eyes alight with understanding,

" _It was you_ ," he says, "I thought it was _his_ magic, but it wasn't, it was _yours_. When we left here at dawn, Merlin was still overcome with fever, his wounds infected. You used magic to heal him."

Gaylen simply smiles, eyes glinting mischievously, "I promised when you departed sire, that I would help your servant with _all the_ _powers_ I had, and I am proud to say that I was able to keep my vow."

Arthur barks out an incredulous laugh, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he can't believe that he's actually having this conversation, "Why are you even here?" he asks, "Where are your people?"

"It was never my destiny to remain with my clan. Fate has chosen for me to walk another path, and follow that path I have."

"What do you mean by destiny and fate?" Gwaine interjects.

"Every life has a purpose, young knight. Our paths were written long before we drew our first breaths in this world. Mine was to be a healer, to nurture the ill who have been fated to cross my path, and to come to Emrys' aid when asked."

Looking skeptical and a little bit unnerved, Gwaine remains silent, but Arthur finds himself frowning, bewildered at the response,

"Emrys' aid?" he questions.

"Emrys' destiny has been immortalized in the prophecies of my people since the time of the ancient kings of this land. I have always known my life was meant for his service, just as he knows his life is meant to serve the once and future king."

"Emrys is the most powerful of us all,” Gaylen divulges ardently, “he is a being of magic far greater than any sorcerer that has ever, or will ever be. He represents hope for my people, for he and the once and future king will come together, their paths entwined by destiny itself. As one, they will unite the lands of Albion under a single kingship, thus ushering in the Golden Age of peace and prosperity for both our peoples. Magic will again be free, and the earth will flourish once more beneath our feet."

"That's a nice dream. Peace and prosperity should be something we all aspire for. But _prophecies?”_  Arthur scoffs, a little disconcerted, “Surely you haven't let a few tales sung by ancient bards dictate your life."

"Hardly, young prince, for if they were simply frivolous tales spun to strike hope in the hearts of children, I'd have followed a much different path, just as Emrys would have long since done the same."

Arthur looks at the man with a furrowed brow, confused and struggling to decide whether the person before him is a raving lunatic or simply an eccentric old man.

"You keep speaking of this Emrys,” he says, the foreign name rolling uncertainly off his tongue, “this great sorcerer and his king.” He continues, looking intently at the druid, “I have participated in my father's court proceedings for many years, yet I have never heard of either man. There is no king on this Isle that refers to himself as the Once and Future, and if a sorcerer existed that held powers to the extent which you claim, my father would have surely had a bounty upon his head long ago."

"You are correct Prince Arthur,” Gaylen concurs, “but only in the aspect that there is no king, for that king has yet to take his place upon his throne, just as the sorcerer has yet to step out from beneath his shroud of shadows and into the light of his true identity. The two, however,” he pauses, a zealous spark igniting within his eyes, “ _do exist_.”

“In the end,” he continues, “it will be Camelot, more than any other, that has the largest role to play in their story, for out of her womb, Albion shall be born," Gaylen looks upon Arthur with fervency, " _Both_ of the prophesied ones are standing on the very precipice of greatness, fate drawing them in and twining them together as one. Even as we speak, we are on the verge of the golden era, and I can only watch in awe as the prophesies come to light. I am honored to have been chosen to be a part of this great tale, no matter how small a part I may play."

Arthur stands there, stunned, and a little shaken, his face a myriad of confused emotions. He opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by a new voice joining the exchange,

"No part is ever small in Albion," it says raspingly, and instantly, all the rooms' inhabitants sharply turn their attention onto Merlin, who is still quite pale, yet clearly awake, propped up on the cot by his unsteady elbows.

Gaylen smiles warmly, and moves to help maneuver the servant into a better position, sliding a few pillows behind the younger man's thin frame _. 'It is small in comparison to yours Emrys, but that makes it no less a privilege,'_ he thinks to his charge, and watches in satisfaction as Merlin's eyes twinkle fondly in response.

"Well it's about time you woke up, mate," Gwaine declares, breaking the moment. “The princess here complained the whole ride back, saying he couldn't believe that we were having to haul you around like a swooning maid."

"I'm sure he did." Merlin's acknowledges, clearly amused, his weary smile broadening.

When Merlin gathers the courage to look at Arthur, he is not surprised to see that the other man is observing him carefully. Even though there is no hostility in prince’s eyes, Merlin's smile fades away non-the-less, and he is unable to prevent the sudden twisting of his insides, dread for another confrontation settling deep within his stomach.

Silence falls like an uncomfortable mantle, and with a quick glance to Gaylen, Merlin conveys a silent plea, one which intuitively, the older man understands,

"I still have other patients to attend to," Gaylen announces abruptly, "so if you have no further questions, I shall bid you all goodnight."

The physician quickly rises, pausing only to give the warlock’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Merlin smiles gratefully, the gesture holding so much of the same gentleness Gaius would have given, and the familiarity comforts him, his heart swelling with affection. Merlin watches silently as the healer turns and walks away, leaving him alone with Camelot's crown prince, and his loyal knights.

The silence draws out, and Arthur, having enough of it, clears his throat, commanding the room’s attention, before casting a compelling look to Leon. With a solitary nod, the older knight somewhat hesitantly, motions for Percival and Elyan to retreat with him. Each of the three men, though eager to stay, show their trust by exiting the chambers in quiet obedience.

When Arthur glances over at Gwaine and Lancelot, clearly expecting the same compliance, Gwaine simply scoffs,

"Like hell I'm leaving."

" _Gwaine,_ " Lancelot warns, reaching out, gripping the rogue knight's bicep in a calming manner, "Let's leave these two to talk this out," he says gently.

Gwaine simply bristles and pulls away,

"No!" he hisses, "There is no way I'm leaving Merlin alone with him, and you're a fool to consider it."

Long fingers curl into the hem of the his tunic, resulting in a brief tug, and Gwaine finds his attention drawn down to his friend's tired eyes. Merlin is looking at him with a mixture of both affection, and mild exasperation,

"I want you to go with Lancelot," his friend bids softly.

"You can't be serious," Gwaine balks incredulously, "You can't possibly want to be in here alone with _him_!" he enunciates, gesticulating wildly in the direction of Arthur.

"I appreciate your concern Gwaine, I _really_ do, and I couldn't have asked for a better friend, but right now I have a lot I need to say-to explain, and I need you to give me the privacy to do so.”

“ _I promise_ ,” Merlin affirms, smiling up at the knight fondly, “ _I will_ talk to you, too, but Arthur needs to hear what I have to say _first._ "

Gwaine swallows thickly as he stares into the deep blue eyes that are pleading with him for understanding, and despite his desire to stubbornly hold his ground, he relents, albeit grudgingly. The knight nods, failing to suppress a discontented sigh as he takes his uninjured hand and clasps it over the pale fingers still lightly holding onto his tunic. With a reassuring squeeze, he pries them off, flashing a reluctant smile,

"I'm holding you to that promise," he says gruffly, before moving away.

In a few short steps, Gwaine is standing directly in front of Arthur, eyeing the man intently,

"You're an ass, Pendragon," he says bluntly, "But, you're also a good man," he admits, a slight smile curving his lips.

"I'm leaving this room because Merlin here asked me too, and because I'm going to choose to trust you," he continues, "I never would have joined the ranks of your knights if I couldn't see the potential in you that Merlin does. He's always claimed that you were going to be a great king, one that was fair, and worthy of our loyalty, so now I'm asking you _to prove it_ ," placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, Gwaine leans forward and speaks discreetly into the man's ear, "Just know, that if you upset him, there will be hell to pay."

Then with a firm, almost painful slap to the prince's back, Gwaine sweeps past.

Arthur isn't a fool, so despite the jovial way in which the knight's final words are delivered, the fierce promise that lay within the parting statement is clearly received.

Lancelot, who had been watching the exchange, shrewdly holds his tongue, choosing to simply bow his head in respectful acknowledgement of the two men, before following the disappearing form of his fellow knight.

When the door clicks shut with a sobering sense of finality, the tension in the room seems to mount tenfold. Now, it is just the two of them, master and servant, prince and sorcerer, alone with only the silence and their turbulent thoughts between them.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

A/N: Dun dun dun! Hooray, Arthur and Merlin are finally alone, both awake and ready to talk :D

The Next chapter is the last, so I hope ya’ll have enjoyed the journey up to this point. I’m feeling accomplished to finally have gotten this far. A year or so ago, I was almost positive that this story would never make it off my hard drive :D


	17. Midnight Discussions

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! I’m soooooo sorry for the long wait! I had this chapter typed up less than two weeks after the last chapter, but I have been unable to get it betaed yet. The vast majority voted for me to just post this in all of its flawed glory, so be nice, I know there will be plenty of mistakes. Hopefully, I will be able to repost with a betaed chapter, with maybe a few revisions, but I will have to wait until real life releases my poor beta from captivity :D

Anyway, this is it, the final chapter! I’m not very happy with it, but I needed to end this story and I just hope it works despite my critical eye. My beta used to give me a lot of great advice, and ideas, so without it going through her first, I’m kind of nervous.

Thank you all my loyal readers, and faithful reviewers. I still can’t believe this story received over 300 reviews. I’m so happy that I was able to pass the finish line after 3 years, and hope that you are all content with how everything wraps up. This might be my last story, and I’m just glad I was able to complete it. I have come to realize that I seem to do better in the art department of this fandom, so I may be focusing more on drawing our boys than writing about them.

I signed up for the Merlin reverse big bang, and submitted 3 works for it. There were so many great art pieces; I can tell that come March we will have a lot of amazing stories to add to this fandom. I can’t wait to read them!

Thank you, EchoRose480 for all your help, dedicated efforts, and for sticking with me all this time. You can’t imagine how much it helped just knowing you were there. I don’t believe I would have finished without you. *hugs* You’re the best beta ever, and I hope life gives you a breather soon! :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, I wouldn’t have destroyed half the rain forest via used tissue over 5X13 :P

~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~

Chapter 17 - Midnight Discussions

Silence stretches out around them, and Merlin can feel his fingers trembling anxiously. The sweat on his brow is beading anew, each drop gathering until it releases, cascading in tiny rivulets down his pale skin. Quickly it all becomes too much, and unable to bare the quiet for another moment, he spouts, “Sire,” his voice a hoarse croak, and he grimaces at the desperation he hears quivering from within its timbre.

Immediately, Arthur interrupts him, stopping any further vocal attempts with a firm wave of his hand.

“Just…just _wait_ ,” he implores, “for a moment, I need you to _wait_.”

Merlin flounders at the order, but heeds it none-the-less, pursing his lips together in sudden uncharacteristic obedience.  Unable to maintain eye contact, he pulls his gaze away from the Prince, and an unbearable stillness falls over the room for a second time.

Arthur stands there, lined face cradled in his palms, fingers massaging his temples as he futilely attempts to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. Once more, an uncomfortable tension settles over his shoulders, the stillness around him disturbed only by the sporadic shifting of his booted feet. With a weary exhalation, Arthur finds himself reaching for the back of a nearby chair, the loud grating noise of the wood as he drags it across the floor has Merlin suddenly looking up, the younger man watching warily as the prince pulls the piece of furniture towards his cot.

Arthur drops into the seat with a loud groan, his long exhalation voicing without words the true extent of his weariness both in body and mind. Rubbing a hand over his pinched face, the prince inhales, pulling in a calming breath before allowing himself to lean forward, the position permitting both men to look evenly into each other’s troubled eyes,

“Is it true?” he begins, “Is it true that you were _born_ with magic?”

Merlin swallows hesitantly before nodding,

“Yes” he answers honestly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact, despite the strong temptation to do otherwise. He tries to force as much self-pride as he can into that one word, because he won’t let anyone believe that he is ashamed of being who he is, has been, and always will be.

“Then why come to Camelot?” Arthur asks in disbelief, “Why come to the very heart of magical persecution?”

Merlin laughs but the sound isn’t jovial, and neither is the wan smile that turns his lips, both expressions are tired and underlined with blatant irony. “You don’t seem to understand that I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice” Arthur snorts incredulously. “Did someone bind your hands and drag you into the city, force you to walk through the gates and into the citadel itself.”

“You are a prat.” Merlin scoffs, the familiar insult falling instinctively from his lips before he can even think to repress it, and a blush forms high on his cheeks.  

“I…No one…I wasn’t…ghah!” he shakes his head in frustration, dark locks shifting messily across his forehead. “I wasn’t _forced_ to do anything.” He states firmly, “but my mother did _urge_ me to go, and I did it, because neither of us knew what else to do.”

Merlin could tell by Arthur’s dubious expression, that the prince was going to need more of an explanation than that in order to fully grasp the reasons behind his servant’s seemingly suicidal decision. So with that in mind, Merlin lets out a calming breath, preparing himself to speak, 

“You must understand that my first lessons in life were to hide.” He begins, licking his chapped lips nervously. “When other children were playing outdoors, I was watching from the window because mother wouldn’t let me go out.”      

“I didn’t have very much control then. My magic would simply react instinctively to my emotions or desires, and it was too much of a risk to let me run amuck with the other children.”

“I began to wonder if maybe I was a monster.” He admitted his eyes saddening in remembrance. “I knew that people were scared of those who were like me-that we were hated. Some of my earliest memories are having my mother ingrain it into my very being that I was never to reveal myself, that death was what awaited me should I slip up. She would always do everything she could to make me feel like I was special and that it was the people’s ignorance that was wrong and not me, but she didn’t always succeed. Most of the time I just felt shunned, like an outcast, a bastard child.” A brief flood of grief fills him, his eyes glazing slightly as his words continue to stir up long buried emotions. He lowers his head further and rubs a trembling hand over his face in a vain effort to compose himself. Inhaling deeply, Merlin glances up and sees that despite his efforts, the Prince is very much aware of his moment of weakness, and Merlin looks away flushing faintly, but finds himself no less deterred.

“As I got older,” he continues shakily, “I… my powers grew with me, but at the same time, I also gained more control over them. I never had a problem until I reached the age of around eighteen winters, and that was when I started to find it increasingly more difficult to refrain from doing sudden bursts of magic.” He explained, “and it was because of this lack of control, that my mother sent me to Camelot.”

Merlin pauses, his teeth biting at his lips worryingly. “She uhmm, she had an old friend,” he shares hesitantly. “and she had hoped that he would be able to help me - to  teach me to control my powers so that I could live as normal of a life as one could bearing such gifts as mine.”

“Gaius,” Arthur knowingly voices, and a lie instinctively leaps to the tip of Merlin’s tongue, but he quickly suppresses it. If there was any hope for reconciliation, he was going to have to be truthful, there could be no more lies between them,

“Yes,” he trustingly admits, “it was Gaius who I sought help from.”

Arthur doesn’t ask anything more despite the confirmation, he simply nods, and motions for his servant to continue.

“Well when it came down to it, I was nervous to leave my village,” Merlin says. “But I did it. I had too.”

“The fear of what would become of me or my mother if I couldn’t reign in my magic, far outweighed any fear I may have had about going to Camelot. To be honest, I didn’t even know the true extent to which my kind were being persecuted there, nor did I know that according to Camelot I had been committing treason from the time I’d been born.”

“But I _did_ learn, I learned the moment I walked through the castle gates and I saw a man die for sorcery, beheaded amidst a crowd of ignorant people.”

Merlin falls silent and waits; he can literally feel the weight of Arthur’s scrutiny, and with a burst of courage he lifts his gaze to meet the prince’s.

“I believe you” Arthur breathes, and Merlin can see the sincerity in his friend’s eyes. The relief he feels his so intense, that he swears he may end up crying at the Prince’s feet, becoming the girls petticoat he’s so often accused of being.

“I think I understand why you came now,” Arthur admits, “but what would make you stay? Why not leave after knowing what the consequences of being caught using magic would be?”

Merlin can see the need for understanding reflecting deep from within Arthur’s gaze, the prince clearly desiring to understand his servant’s motive, while Merlin wholly yearns for the other man’s acceptance. In the end Merlin can’t help but give the man a genuine smile “You” he replies with honest conviction.

“ _Me!?_ ” Arthur splutters, obviously taken back, having not expected the answer. “What do you mean me?”

“After I arrived, I met Gaius and he promised to help me, and then I met you. To be honest I thought you were terrible, and I told Gaius as much, but even after our fight in marketplace and all our differences, I still couldn’t let you die, and so that night at the feast I used my magic to save you.”

“Pulling me out from the path of an oncoming dagger is hardly magic” Arthur points out. 

Merlin snorts, “It is if you’re too far away and had to slow down time to get there.”

Arthur blanches, while Merlin grins victoriously,

“So you saved me with magic,” the prince concedes after a pause, “What does that have to do with staying in Camelot?”

“After that a… _friend_ told me that maybe that was what my magic was for. That maybe I was meant to protect you, and so I lied, I lied every day to survive, lied to you and everyone else countless times while in Camelot. The only truth I can give you is that I may have broken your laws by living, and I may have betrayed your trust by lying, but I have never betrayed Camelot or you where it matters most. I have always been loyal to you sire, and I have stood with you, beside you--all of you. I have done everything in my power to protect both you and the city in secret, hiding amidst the shadows battling magic with magic, when your swords could not hope to prevail alone, and I did it all because you’re a good man Arthur, and I know you will be an even greater king - the once and future king.”

And with those words, the same one’s Gaylen had spoken, Arthurs face drains of all color, expression going from awe struck to utter shock.

“The once and future king is just a druid’s tale, you can’t possibly believe all that stuff the Physician was spouting off about earlier.”

“I _do_ ,” Merlin admits, “and that was not the first time I have heard the prophecies either. _You are_ him, you will be _that King_ sire. You have a great destiny, and you will bring the time of peace and prosperity that has long been awaited and foretold.”

“So that’s why you stayed then, because of some tale spoken of by the druids, because I’m supposed to be some great king that unites lands and lets you practice magic?”

Before Merlin can even blink, Arthur abruptly stands, the sudden force overturning his chair. The wood loudly impacts the floor, but the prince doesn’t even flinch as he swiftly moves towards the door.

“Arthur no!” Merlin pleads, diving forward in an attempt to follow. An agonized cry tears from his lips as he lands in a tangled heap on the floor, his body instinctively curling into a fetal position. He tucks his arms in, pressing them to his sides, his breath coming out in short strangled gasps, as black spots hover in front of his eyes. His ears are ringing, and it takes a moment to realize that Arthur hasn’t left the room, but is actually there beside him, his strong arms sliding up and under his damaged body as they work to lift him back onto the cot.

“You idiot!” he hears when his hearing begins to clear, and he forces his eyes to open. Arthur’s face is right there, expression both concerned and anxious, and Merlin feels an inexplicable amount of relief. He reaches out and grasps the front of the Prince’s tunic with a trembling hand, “That’s not why” he gasps, desperately wanting Arthur to understand, “That’s not why I stay.” He insists.

Arthur’s worried eyes crinkle as his expression shifts, and Merlin finds himself holding on to the man’s tunic a little bit tighter. “At first it was because I was told it was my destiny, but that’s not why I stay-I swear it!” he hisses, “I stay for _you_ Arthur, I stay because of the man _you are_ , not who _you will be_. I stay because I see greatness in you, and I know you will bring that greatness to Camelot. More than that though, above all else, I stay because you are my _friend_.” Merlin’s face crumples, tears filling his eyes, and he tries to choke back the desperate sob that wants to escape. His vision is blurring, and he can’t make out the Prince’s expression, but he doesn’t need to, not when Arthur’s hands carefully ease them into an awkward embrace, not when calloused fingers thread gently through the hairs at his nape.

Overwhelmed, he cries then, giant heaving sobs that shake his lithe frame. “I’m sorry” he gasps, tucking himself closer as if trying to disappear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Arthur murmurs, “I forgive you”

The prince holds the body in his arms tighter, “I want you to know that I’m sorry too, I’m sorry that you’ve had to hide, that you’ve suffered, I’m just sorry…my friend.”

Merlin nods in acknowledgement, his head still tucked into the prince’s shoulder. Moments ticks by, marked only by the falling wax from nearby candles, before Merlin sniffles softly. He quickly composes himself, while continuing to bask in the peace that has begun to settle over him.

“What will you do?” he mumbles, face still hidden within the folds of the princes tunic.

“Nothing” Arthur replies, pulling back so that he can properly look into his servants red-rimmed eyes. “This changes everything, yet nothing at all.” He continues, “However, I want the truth. I don’t want to feel like a fool anymore.”

“You were never a fool,” Merlin insists, “ _Never_. But I can do that for you, I can give you the truth. I promise.”

Arthur smiles thankfully, “That’s all I would ask from you” he says, and then his fond expression slowly turns thoughtful, “Do you really believe I’m the Once and Future King?” he asks curiously.

Merlin beams, his eyes brimming with honest admiration. “Yes,” he answers fervently, “I _know_ you are.”

Arthur seems to accept the response and leans back, looking at the man before him, his eyes revealing the true depths of his inner reflections. “Gaylen said…I mean, are you…” with a frustrated sigh, Arthur shakes his head.

“No” Merlin asserts forcefully, curling his fingers into the other man’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. “What do you want to know?” he asks, “I’ll answer…anything.”

Arthur nods, and with a lick of his lips he voices his inner suspicions. “You’re _him_ aren’t you; you’re Emrys, the powerful sorcerer that stands by the king… by _me_?”

Merlin’s eyes widen in surprise, and he has to push down the instinctual panic that tries to rear up within him at the utterance of his prophesied name, because it’s ok now, and Arthur _needs_ to know.

“ _Yes_ ” he answers, his voice calm and sure. “Yes, I am.” He repeats.

Arthur smiles and clasps his arm as if greeting a fellow knight, and it’s as though for the first time they are truly seeing each other for what they truly _are_ , maybe even for what they _will be_.

“If this destiny lark is true then, it looks like I’m stuck with you.” Arthur teases.

“That’s not so bad is it?” Merlin asks, eyes twinkling cheekily.

“No, it’s not actually,” Arthur says with surprising honesty. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather do this with.”

Merlin’s responding smile is blinding.

~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~

 FIN

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't pretend to know anything about art since I've never had lessons and am just playing on photoshop with what I've taught myself, not to mention, I don't have a drawing tablet so I had to do all of these illustrations with a mouse eck! Please be merciful *hides*
> 
> Anyway, I hope ya'll are enjoying this, sorry for the cliff-hanger (not really) *cackles evilly* Watch for more to come, and please don't forget to let me know what you think :D


End file.
